Missing Scenes and AUs from First Impressions and Second Chances
by b7-kerravon
Summary: Each of the 'Chapters' in this fiction are actually one-shot missing scenes or alternate universe scenes based on the series by lilsmartass on AO3 called "First Impressions and Second Chances", and will make ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE if you don't read those stories first. The series page there is: /series/30998. It's an amazing angst-fest for everyone concerned!
1. A Late Night Call

Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, and no profit is being made. The stories are for entertainment purposes only.

Author's Note: Each of the 'Chapters' in this fiction are actually missing scenes or alternate universe scenes based on the series by lilsmartass on AO3 called "First Impressions and Second Chances", and will make ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE if you don't read those stories first. The series page is: /series/30998, and the first story, "Iron Man Yes, Tony Stark….Not Recommended" is at: /works/576665.

A Late Night Call

by kerravon

(A missing scene from lilsmartass' story "Iron Man, Yes, Tony Stark, Not Recommended" at AO3 works/576665)

James Rhodes groans as the phone jolts him out of a sound sleep, then quickly snatches it off the nightstand. He's always been able to wake up fast, often so rapidly that callers didn't even realize he'd been sleeping. "Rhodes here," he snaps professionally, sitting up and mentally readying himself for an emergency response as he notes the 02:54 on the bedside alarm clock.

"What's up, Sugarplum?" carols the familiar tones of his old friend, something…off about the greeting that he can't quite put his finger on, but it disturbs him on a visceral level.

He falls back on his pillow as he tries to figure it out. "The sky," he replies automatically as he ponders, staring at the ceiling. Then it hits him; Tony sounds _sober_. Several internal alarms blare at the realization, and the colonel is suddenly sitting bolt upright on the side of his bed. "What's wrong?" he demands, not willing to let Tony divert into his usual babbling.

"Wrong? I never said anything was wrong." The wavering uncertainty in Tony's voice indicates otherwise, and Jim narrows his eyes.

Yeah…no. Rhodes isn't buying it. Now that he's truly listening, he can hear the strained note in his friend's banter, the lilt that is just enough off to kick his 'Tony alarm' up another notch. Time to cut to the chase, then start working on damage control for whatever mess the genius has gotten into this time. "You never ring me at this time of night when you're still sober."

"Night?" comes the surprised response. Rhodey closes his eyes, relaxes slightly, and sighs. It was moments like these that he really wished Tony and Pepper had worked out; when they were a couple she'd never allowed the inventor to stay so long in his workshop that he forgot the time of day.

The pilot's eyes fly open again at Tony's next sentence. "Oh yeah. Sorry. I was working on a…"

"Wait, Tony! Did you just apologize?" he blurts in shock, then tries to cover his surprise with a joke. "Wow, having Captain America as a house guest has finally taught you some manners."

Apparently Rhodes has inadvertently stumbled onto part of the problem, because not only does Tony not snark back, but he suddenly sounds more strained. The pilot winces at the forced laugh that emits from the phone receiver after a moment of telling hesitation. Tony recovers quickly though, and launches with fake cheerfulness into, "I guess. Listen. Cupcake. I just had a question for you."

"No," he responds on autopilot, distracted by trying to work out what was wrong. Because _something_ was wrong. Badly wrong, with an 'I'm being held hostage against my will but can't tell you about it' overlay to every word that sets his teeth on edge.

"What?" The single word is choked out in a combination of shock and _hurt_ that Rhodey hasn't heard from Tony since the night Pepper left.

_'What the hell?' _ The colonel jams his phone up against his ear as he bolts from the bed and starts snagging the pieces of his uniform from where he dropped them a few hours ago. He clearly needs to deal with this in person. Meanwhile, he makes his own tone even more joking to try and snap the sensitive genius out of this…whatever this is. "The only time you ever ask me anything in that tone of voice is when you want me to do something that could get me court martialled or arrested, usually both."

He locates his pants draped over a chair, grabs them, and begins tugging them on, only to stop in alarm as the billionaire whispers pleadingly, _almost tearfully, _"Rhodey….please?"

That's it. No more attempts at subtlety or humor. He flips into 'Commanding Officer' mode and flat out demands, "What's wrong? Where are you?" If he's been kidnapped again, Rhodes is going to rip out the perpetrators' livers and eat them with fava beans.

"No, no. I'm fine. I just...I wanted to ask you something," Tony interjects hurriedly, trying unsuccessfully to reassure his best friend. No, that wasn't happening, not tonight.

"You can ask me anything." '_Shirt, shirt…ah, there it is!'_

"I...Rhodey...how...howdoyoumakepeoplelikeyou?" The hesitance followed by the rushed word salad makes the pilot button his shirt even faster.

"Again, Tony," he reponds with false calm, not able to make heads or tails of the question. "Slower, OK?"

Despite the reasonable reply, Tony takes offense. "Don't talk to me like that! I'm not...I'm not..." he splutters, and Rhodey has a sudden mental image of a rain-soaked, shivering kitten hissing at potential rescue.

"I know. I know you're not," he soothes gently. What Tony is 'not' right now, is rational. His verbal level suggests that he hasn't slept in days, but he hasn't even mentioned his current project. From years of experience, Rhodes knows that means the genius is currently brooding more than working. "But I need you to slow down." He takes meticulous care to keep his tone quiet and reassuring as he grabs a pair of clean socks, concentrating intensely on his friend's reply as he pulls them on.

Even so, he can barely make out the inventor's shamed question, "How do you make people like you?"

"Why?" he asks softly. The billionaire usually didn't even notice, much less care, if the whole world hated him, and when he did, he used his 'asshole mask' as a defense mechanism to prevent anyone from discovering his weakness.

"Don't be angry with me," Tony blurts, begging, reading something into the one-word question that Jim is certain he didn't put there. "Don't. I know I'm...I know. I'm trying to fix it OK. Please." The normally loquacious industrialist is actually so distraught that he's at a loss for words.

_Now_ Rhodes is picturing a bedraggled, soaking-wet, abused kitten cowering behind a dumpster, and tempers his voice accordingly. "I'm not angry with you, but I want to know what brought this on. You've never changed for anybody. Why now?"

There's an uncomfortable pause, then Tony mutters in humiliation, "Because Rogers thought I was hitting on him today and I was just trying to be nice."

That didn't add up. Rhodes, lacing his shoes, allows a small bit of his confusion to seep into his next query. "Today? But you've lived together for weeks."

Another prolonged silence as Tony uncharacteristically pauses to choose his words. "Yeah...we don't really...y'know talk."

That makes even less sense. These people live together, work together, and go into battle together. How could they not talk? They're a team! He does his best to consolidate his reaction into words. "How? You're the Avengers, surely you-"

"I am not an Avenger. I'm a _consultant_." Despite his friend's valiant attempts to sound nonchalant, the words are absolutely dripping with shame and hurt and rejection.

"What?!" The Air Force officer manages to keep both the anger and the outrage out of his voice, but just barely. Tony took on a suicidal mission in the name of these so-called 'Avengers', has been handling their press for weeks, let them live in his own home, and now they've kicked him to the curb?

"Sorry," comes the almost tearful reply.

What. The. Everloving. Hell.

Rhodes snags his coat and strides determinedly towards the door. Whatever is happening in that tower is about to receive his _personal_ attention. "I'm coming over."

"You don't need to-" Tony starts, but Rhodey can tell by his tone that he's almost sagging in relief.

Gritting his teeth, he repeats, "I'm. Coming. Over."

"Alright." Now his friend sounds resigned.

Rhodey isn't sure what's going on in the engineer's head, so he tries, "I won't be long."

"Yeah." More resignation. What the…?

_'Oh, for crying out loud,' _Rhodes thinks as he _gets_ it. "Tony, this is not to avoid answering your question. I promise OK."

Another pause, but then Tony sounds actually grateful. _Bingo. _ "Alright. Thanks."

"I'm on my way." He disconnects the call as he slips into the driver's seat of his car, grateful that he's currently in New York and that the traffic is the lightest at this time of night. He should make it to Tony's tower in 30 minutes or less. Even so, angry as he is, he's going to need both hands for the wheel to keep from having an accident.

He tries to organize his thoughts as he drives, and maybe get a handle on the situation that he's about to walk into. Tony seems to like these people enough to care what they think about him. Knowing his friend, the billionaire has probably not only given them rooms in his home, he's probably given them suites. Maybe even floors. Tony had been so exited about _his _team moving into Stark Tower, especially Rogers. He snorted. The inventor always responded to situations like this by building or buying everything he could think of. It must be like Christmas every day in Avengers Tower.

Or, it would be if Tony had his choice. But apparently he doesn't since he's not an Avenger? Despite the press conferences, helping to pay for the rebuild of Manhattan, donating living quarters to the team, showing up to all the battles, and volunteering for a suicide mission during the Battle for Manhattan, he apparently still doesn't meet SHIELD's standards. What does he have to do to qualify? Sacrifice his first-born child?

Rhodes' eyes widen as something _clicks._ Rogers. Tony sounded off from the very beginning of the phone call, but got much more defensive the moment the Air Force Colonel had joked about Rogers teaching the billionaire some manners, and almost broke down completely when he admitted that the Captain thought Tony was 'hitting' on him. In fact, that is almost certainly the reason he wants to know how to make people like him. 'People' in this case means Rogers.

Now, James Rhodes makes no attempt to hide the fact that his childhood hero was Captain America. Heck, the man is probably the reason he went into the military to begin with. Still, he has nothing on Tony's inner fanboy, no matter how much the industrialist tries to deny it. Growing up with a father that not only knew the Captain, but idolized him, how could Tony not put Rogers on a pedestal? After all, Howard had apparently made no attempt to hide the fact that his search for the super soldier was more important than his own son. Then Tony's godmother, the Captain's sweetheart, had filled the child's head with so many stories of 'daring do' that hero worship was pretty much inevitable. Over the years Tony has hidden it beneath layers of cynicism and snark, but Rhodey knows that it's there. Being on a team of superheroes with the man himself must have been a dream come true…until he was told he wasn't on the team at all.

Rhodey sees red, and pushes the accelerator down just a bit more. Hopefully Tony is just overtired and has misread an innocent comment or two, but the colonel doubts it. If he's right, and Rogers has been mistreating his friend, Rhodes and 'The Captain' are going to have _words._

He snorts, a corner of his mouth quirking up in black humor as he pulls into the garage under Tony's tower. _'Well, I guess I might just get my childhood wish. Before this day is done, I might just meet Captain America.'_


	2. Pepper Gets A Clue

Pepper Gets A Clue

By kerravon

(An AU 'Missing Scene' from the end of "Paved With Good Intentions" at AO3/works/592942)

"JARVIS showed her all the footage he had acquired with a glee she thought a bit unbecoming of an AI, and she is not inclined to be sympathetic to someone who has hurt her Tony." - from Cuts and Bruises, Chapter 3

"Welcome to the Avengers," muttered Clint, crossing his arms over his chest defensively as he slumped impossibly further into his chair, "drama, angst and now apparently, penguins."

The Captain stood with self assurance, despite his continued apparent embarrassment at the results of his recent actions. He stuck out his hand towards Tony, whose eyes flashed up in surprise from where they had settled once more on his own which were folded on the table. "Welcome to the Avengers," the blonde echoed, gaze steady on the billionaire. After a moment, Tony tentatively grasped it, almost as if he were expecting the fingers to change into venomous snakes and strike out at him. When nothing other than a firm handshake resulted, he smiled shyly at the super soldier, pleased at the acceptance.

Pepper narrowed her eyes in suspicion as she watched the interplay between Tony and Captain Rogers, a frown pulling at her lip. _'Welcome to the Avengers'? _ She clenched her jaw so tight she almost broke a molar. _'How DARE he? Tony has sacrificed more for this team than Steve Rogers can hope to comprehend, yet he has the audacity to WELCOME Tony to the Avengers now? REALLY?'_

Looking at the pair of them infuriated her on a visceral level. For all his professed shame, the still unbowed Captain was standing, leaning over Tony so that the cringing engineer was forced to look upwards to meet his eyes. It was as blatant a power play as Potts had ever witnessed, and was all the worse for being unrecognized by either man. She felt hot rage at _her Tony_ being reduced to automatically subjugating himself to another human being, no matter how much he wanted to be accepted.

She flashed a quick glance at Rhodes, who appeared just as unhappy as Pepper as he glared at the current interchange. Mouth set to a grim line as he made a decision, the Air Force Colonel stood forcefully, shoving his chair back. Roger's eyes widened slightly as he glimpsed the fury still painting the other man's face, but by the time Tony had swung around to look, Rhodes was all soft, reassuring smiles. Placing his hands on the exhausted genius' shoulders, he gently levered him to his feet as he remarked, "Well, now that _that's_ straightened out, how about you and I go grab some lunch?" It was obvious to Pepper that Rhodes had decided that taking care of his old friend was more important than revenge, at least for the time being. That was fine by Ms. Potts; it gave her the freedom to start taking care of 'Captain America' and his little band of bullies.

Tony's eyes were dark pools as he stared at his friend, then nodded submissively and turned towards the door. Jim wrapped a reassuring arm around his shoulders, talking in low tones and steering him out of the room while simultaneously shooting Pepper a meaningful look. Potts nodded her head once in a determined silent promise of retribution, which made Rhodes quirk a smile in reply. They were agreed; for now, he would take care of Tony, while she took care of…everything else. A vicious satisfaction curled low in her gut. Oh yes, this was going to be a pleasure.

"If you'll excuse me? I have a company to run." She was fiercely gratified by the way all three of the SHIELD lackeys suddenly focused on her, and imperceptibly straightened. Good. Perhaps they were coming to an understanding. She made no attempt to hide her disdain as she swept out, mind already on the task ahead. She had some research to do.

-A-A-A-A-

Pepper waited until she was sequestered behind the locked doors of her office before acting. She had her secretary clear her schedule and gave strict instructions not to be disturbed unless it was an emergency, or Mr. Stark. The CEO instinctively recognized that, in his current state of mind, the insecure genius would perceive having to leave a message as a rejection from one more person important to him, and Pepper refused to risk it. She had worked for the billionaire for far too many years not to know instantly when he was hiding something, and had a sinking feeling that right now he was concealing the depth to which his feelings had been shattered. The way he'd sat in the conference room, curled in on himself and leaning the tiniest bit towards Rhodes' stalwart support in the chair next to him, belied his verbal bravado and snark and instead suggested insecurity, if not outright fear. Of course, Tony would have his tongue ripped out before admitting to the emotions pouring from his all-too-expressive eyes. The overwhelming impression of not being good enough, of expecting rejection, was the most disturbing to Pepper. This was a man who had changed the world a dozen times over, had said "no" to the United States government and walked away with his head held high, had rescued himself from a cave in Afghanistan by making a flying battle suit out of miscellaneous scraps of armaments. This man had frank, often brutally honest discussions with Presidents and Generals, irregardless of the personal fallout. To see him so…hesitant, so desperate for approval, was just wrong on so many levels. The unconscious flit of his hand to his chest to cover the arc reactor every time Rogers' mouth opened spoke volumes about where those feelings originated.

Rogers had been an unexpected a chink in the Tony Stark's personal armor, inadvertently created long before the genius could even read or write. A distant father's praise for this 'paragon of virtue' had established the man's infallibility and goodness back when Tony was young enough to still believe that Daddy knew everything. This impression had been cemented in the years following his disillusionment with Howard by Peggy Carter, a woman to this day who still had a place near and dear to his heart as 'Auntie Peggy'. Her fond rose-colored reminiscences of the Captain undoubtedly portrayed him in an unrealistically flattering light, but Pepper couldn't find it in her heart to begrudge the stories; after all, Tony's godmother had been one of the few people to ever unconditionally love him as a child. To this day, visits from Peggy were still sacrosanct; the engineer would drop everything to spend time with her whenever she showed up, and listen to her tales with the wide-eyed wonder of a child. For the 'Captain' to abuse this hero worship to the point where Tony looked so defeated…

Ms. Potts' lips thinned grimly. Activating her private server, she schooled her voice to hide her anger; she didn't want her own feelings to influence the AI's response. "JARVIS?" she asked politely.

"Yes, Miss Potts," came the instantaneous reply.

"JARVIS, I just had an interesting meeting with Mr. Stark, Colonel Rhodes, Miss Romanov, Mr. Barton, and Captain Rogers. It appears that some unpleasantness has occurred within the group. Is that correct?"

A pause, then, "Yes, Miss Potts."

"As CEO of Stark Industries, I am of the habit of identifying corporate threats and formulating both appropriate responses and deterrents. To do so requires as much hard data as I can obtain. I am very effective at this method of problem-solving, as you well know." Her polite tones became laced with steel. "Therefore, I need all the factual information I can retrieve concerning Mr. Stark's interactions with the Avengers. Has he classified any of the security footage recorded in the tower since his so-called teammates moved in?"

JARVIS sounded uncommonly pleased as he replied, "No ma'am, he has not."

Pepper allowed herself a small smile at that, then continued, "What about the high-level security feeds? The ones to his quarters, his garage, and his labs? Am I still authorized access?" She held her breath unconsciously; it was entirely possible Tony had revoked her clearances after her tearful confession prior to fleeing the Tower the night of their breakup.

"Your access has not changed in any aspect for the past eleven months," came the truly smug answer. So, not since Tony had bequeathed her the position of CEO at SI. She sighed in relief, then got down to business.

"Based on your lengthy experience of various human interactions with Mr. Stark, can you show me footage of the first time the others' responses appeared to deviate from norm?"

"Certainly." Pepper's monitor sprung to life with a video of Tony standing outside the elevator on the common floor, the man fairly vibrating with excitement and bouncing on his toes. She paused the screen, then centered on him and magnified it, noting with concern the dark circles beneath his eyes, the deeper-than-usual hollows in his cheeks, the unkempt spikes of hair, the rumpled shirt and trousers. He hadn't been taking care of himself.

"JARVIS, what is the time-stamp on this?"

"Just over six weeks ago, when Agents Barton, Romanov, and Captain Rogers were ordered to move into the tower. This is the day they arrived."

Pepper's brows creased. "Did you say, 'ordered'? It wasn't their choice?" She knew that Tony had been planning on creating whole personalized floors for each of his supposed 'teammates', then inviting them to move into the Tower, but didn't expect him to try and force the issue if they declined.

"Sir informed me that Director Fury had ordered them to move into his home, and had ordered Sir to house them. Since it had been his plan all along to offer, he simply accelerated the construction without lodging any objections."

Ms. Potts tapped a manicured nail on the image of the weary man on the screen. "How long had it been since he slept?"

"At the time of that footage, he had been awake almost continuously for four days. The Director gave him a three day deadline for readiness after a full day of clearing rubble for publicity. It took not inconsiderable effort on his part to achieve the appointed goals."

Pepper's eyebrows crawled into her scalp in surprise. Why in the world had Tony permitted that? And what was Fury thinking? The group was going to show up with a collective chip on their shoulder the size of a two-by-four! She restarted the video and watched, as expected, a cluster of three very wary superheroes exit the elevator.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Tony greeted them, gesturing around the room. They all glared stonily back, but Tony didn't notice, still quivering with barely-suppressed excitement and four days of caffeine-fueled sleep deprivation. She smiled fondly, even as she shook her head in despair. The inventor could be a little overwhelming once he reached this point, and it was even worse when he'd spent the time making gifts for people he liked. Unfortunately, it was painfully obvious that he liked these people, and desperately wanted them to like him back. He had already spent countless hours on the blueprints of each individualized floor prior to her departure; he no doubt spared no expense to realize these plans in the extremely limited time Fury had given them. They didn't know it yet, but they were each moving into a custom-made piece of heaven with a view of Manhattan to die for.

She frowned as she watched the tour continue. Rather than being appreciative, the three 'heroes' became progressively more withdrawn and sullen, bunching together as if Tony were about to _attack_ them. The billionaire subconsciously picked up on the hostile vibes and tried to make small talk to break the ice. The others seemed to deliberately misconstrue every friendly overture and comment he made as an aspersion, and practically threw his offer of lunch in his face as they headed for the exit, pointedly leaving him behind. The lost, inadequate expression that flitted across his face at their rejection tore her heart in two, and she silently watched his shoulders slump in defeat as he retreated to his lab.

Blinking back tears, she swallowed twice before she trusted her voice to address the AI without cracking. "JARVIS, do you have any other examples of this behavior to show me?"

The computer's voice was dry. "It's been over six weeks. There are innumerable examples. Please be more specific."

The CEO's eyes narrowed dangerously. Of course there were. "Why don't we start with the dress he made for Natasha? He called me for my input on that." She remembered the conversation. By her estimation, the Avengers had already been ungratefully sponging off Tony for a number of weeks by that time. Her brow creased in concern; she had asked him at the time why he didn't simply ask Natasha herself, and he'd blown her off with some tripe about geniuses presenting completed masterpieces. But now she had to wonder… "Actually, JARVIS, could you show me the feed from when he made that call to me?"

JARVIS…paused, which sent alarms ringing in her gut. She almost asked again if it was classified when her screen flared to life, showing the lab. Pepper gasped audibly. The lab was a _mess_, more so than she'd ever seen it. Rather than the haphazard collection twenty or thirty different ongoing problems in various states of development, the place looked like it had been torn apart by a hurricane, and was in the process of slowly being put to rights. "What _happened_?", she hissed in surprise.

The computer took it as an honest query. "Sir had returned four days previously from attending an Avengers meeting to which he had not been invited. Apparently Director Fury and Captain Rogers both informed Sir that his presence wasn't requested as he was not an Avenger, merely a consultant, which was not information Sir had been privy to prior to that point. Agent Barton reportedly expanded on that statement to indicate that Sir was in actuality only their butler, useful for providing accommodations and nothing else."

Pepper saw red; closing her eyes, she took several deep, calming breaths before continuing. "You said 'reportedly', JARVIS. How do you know Barton said this? Tony doesn't have you monitoring the SHIELD security cameras, does he?" She certainly hoped not, otherwise this was going to get complicated.

"No, Miss Potts. I accrued the information both from subsequent comments made by the others upon their return, as well as Sirs…rants…over the next several hours."

Pepper nodded, relieved. Gesturing to the frozen scene, she continued, "So, how did this happen?"

JARVIS reluctantly admitted, "Sir was…distraught. Apparently the Director perceived Sir as 'out of control', therefore unsuitable to be an Avenger, and indicated that it had to do with… your departure. Sir extrapolated that to mean that _you_ also thought he was out of control, and that was the real reason that you left. He proceeded to drink to excess, then violently dismantle the entire workshop. In the process he tried to take DUM-E apart and make him 'work right', since 'nothing he ever did worked right'."

Pepper jolted in shock. Tony treated his robots like his children. For him to be upset enough to attack one of them, and for Fury to imply that there was something wrong with _Tony_ that had caused her to leave… Once she was done with Rogers and 'the Avengers', the Director was next on her hit list. She had been meticulously careful with her words at the time of the breakup, making absolutely certain that there was no way for Tony to misunderstand and internalize the blame into himself, as he tended to do. It was the risks he took with the Iron Man that were the problem, not Tony himself. But, as that was part of what made him the man she loved, she was between a rock and a hard place. She could be CEO, personal assistant, and friend, but she didn't have the strength of will to love a man who regularly saved the world at the probable ultimate cost of his own life. She closed her eyes and massaged her temples in frustration. For Fury to screw up all her careful work with some ill-timed comments…yep. It was time for a _thorough_ review of every single contract SHIELD had with SI.

Taking a deep breath, she composed herself and resumed the tape. When Tony swung into view, her eyes widened, aghast. He looked so small and dejected! Hunched over as if warding off a blow, his muscles became more and more tense as the conversation continued, even though he let none of it show in his voice. At his joking, "Why did you work for such an ass?", her heart jumped to her throat. Despite the lighthearted tone, she could see the raw vulnerability in his face, the expected rejection in the curve of his back, the slump of his shoulders. He really wanted to know; at that moment he really thought of himself as an ass. She could only thank God her joking reply hadn't been one to reinforce that impression. "Not a hopeless case, then?", and the sheer anguish she could now see in his eyes... She swallowed convulsively to keep from crying. Clearly every hurtful word from the others had been internalized by this point, to where Tony believed that his every failed interpersonal relationship was all his fault. Damn Fury and his Initiative to hell!

Shaking her head, she forcibly wrenched herself back to a more impersonal mental state to try and maintain some objectivity. A deep sigh, then, "All right, JARVIS, halt the video, then correct me if I'm wrong. In the first clip, Rogers, Barton, and Romanov are forced to move into the home of a man that they believe wants to be part of their exclusive little clique but isn't, and is trying to buy and barter his way in without really 'earning' it. Meanwhile, the man in question believes that he is already a member of the group, is excited about it, and is doing his best to make them feel welcome and comfortable. How am I doing so far?"

"I believe that accurately sums up the situation."

"In the second clip, Tony has obviously resorted to his typical ultimate coping mechanism of cowering in his workshop when he's upset and is expecting blatant rejection from everyone, including people who have been his tried-and-true friends for years." She was having trouble keeping a handle on her temper again.

"That is correct."

"Can you summarize the events that occurred between these two clips? Honestly, I'm afraid that if I watch much more, I'll react unthinkingly, and whatever I do to Captain Rogers? I want to plan out every detail so that it sticks." She flashed a vicious, shark-like gin that she knew the AI would see.

"Certainly, ma'am," JARVIS answered with disconcerting approval. "In the intervening time period, Sir extended eight separate invitations to the Avengers for attempted social interactions, all but one of which were rejected. In the same time period, the others participated in three organized social engagements that Sir was intentionally not invited to, as well as six formal 'Avengers' meetings at SHIELD to which Sir likewise was not requested to attend. He created specialty arrows for Mr. Barton as a friendly gesture, which were accepted with poor grace. Sir responded in his typical fashion and accidentally hurt Barton's feelings, and was subsequently threatened with physical harm by Romanov should it occur again. When he accessed the SHIELD database to try and prevent further faux pas in the future, he discovered Agent Coulson to still be alive, and notified the rest of the team. He was subsequently condemned by the entire group, forbidden to see the Agent in question, and telephonically admonished by yourself when he contacted you to inform you of the Agent's survival.

Pepper flinched. She remembered that conversation. Her "What on Earth made you think that would be a good idea?" response had sounded appropriate at the time, but in retrospect…

"All right, JARVIS. I get it. No matter how hard he tried, he just kept being 'wrong'." She dropped her face into her hands and regained her composure. No wonder Tony looked so defeated. When she raised her head, though, there was a fire in her eyes once more. "Thank you, JARVIS. I think I can take it from here. Please let me know if any further…misunderstandings occur at the tower, all right?"

"As you wish," came the satisfied reply.

The End


	3. Refunds and Exchanges

Refunds and Returns

(AU missing scene, "Cuts and Bruises", shortly before the Great Penguin Theft at AO3/works/667480)

by kerravon

Natasha knew the moment she entered her quarters that she was not alone. Pausing just inside her door, she balanced on the balls of her feet, relaxed but alert, as her eyes adjusted to the dimness. A small smile quirked the corner of her mouth as she recognized Clint's form sprawled languidly in an overstuffed chair, leg draped over one arm, arrow twirling slowly in the fingers of his left hand. The smile disappeared as her friend's attention continued to be focused on the precise movements of the shaft in his hand, every other muscle unnaturally still. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion; she'd known the archer long enough to recognize when he was truly unhappy with something.

She glided smoothly over, settling onto the corner of the couch nearest the marksman. Then, without preamble, she demanded, "What's wrong?"

Clint didn't even glance her way. He took a deep, calming breath, letting it out with a slow control that Banner might have envied. With studied nonchalance, he replied in an apparent non sequitur, "I thought you never turned down presents."

Natasha couldn't miss the controlled fury underlying the statement, but didn't know where it was coming from, so proceeded with caution. "That's what I said," she agreed slowly.

"And you made it quite clear that I was not allowed to, and I quote," he paused in the arrow twirling and stared at the ceiling contemplatively, tapping an index finger to his chin as he made a great show of remembering, "treat you like a helpless girl who needs me to go through her stuff and decide what she can and can't handle, ever again."

Natasha frowned at the accusatory tone and decided to not play this game. "What's this about?" she almost snapped, but calmed at the last moment and used civil tones to make it a question instead. It had been a long couple of weeks piecing Clint together from the emotional fallout after Loki, compounded by the misunderstandings with Stark, and she really didn't want to deal with him falling apart all over again.

Clint pursed his lips, then attacked from a different angle. "When we had that meeting with Ms. Potts, Stark listed a bunch of possible ways to apologize for our behavior." Natasha actually blinked at the change in topic but held her tongue, waiting for her companion to make his point. The archer resumed the leisurely rotation of his arrow, which she was beginning to suspect might be important. "One of his easier suggestions was 'a cupboard full of pork rinds'."

"I…think he was joking, Clint," she hazarded. "After all, he also mentioned a unicorn."

The archer glanced briefly her way as he waved a dismissive hand in the air. "Yeah, but even if unicorns actually existed, I don't think they'd get along very well with Stark. I mean, with his sexual history…" He shook himself, returning to his earlier topic. "Anyway, I figured I'd try the pork rinds first. Couldn't hurt, and I am so tired of feeling guilty every time he censors himself due to his worries about our reactions."

Natasha kept her face impassive, but her heart ached with the raw hurt in his tone. Given Barton's history, it was unsurprising how suspicious he had been of both Stark's words and gifts, always waiting for the other shoe to drop, the price to be paid. What she hadn't expected was Rogers' taking everything at its surface value, always assuming ulterior motives without ever asking, creating a feedback loop between the two men that responded with increasing hostility to Stark's every attempt to be friendly. By the time LTC Rhodes had demonstrated their mistake, the genius had learned to be extremely cautious around the whole team, second and third guessing himself before committing to even the most innocent of actions or words. She couldn't really blame the engineer; she'd been the one to write his profile. She'd known how much Stark had wanted to be part of the Avengers, and how crestfallen he'd been at Fury's refusal. She winced internally at some of the snide remarks she'd let Clint get away with, on the basis that he was hurting inside more than the billionaire was and that Stark could handle it. She really, really should have known that they were inadvertently carving out what little was left of the genius' heart. It was going to take a lot more than pork scratchings to win back this man's trust.

"Anyway," Barton continued, unaware of her inner monologue, "I remembered a cupboard in Stark's workshop from that first tour he gave us; figured that would be perfect. I wanted to fix it so he'd just open it up one morning and voila, pork rinds!"

Natasha frowned imperceptibly. "How did you plan to…" she began.

He met her eyes for the first time, swinging his leg down to the floor to face her as he interrupted, "The vents."

She blinked again. "Sorry?"

Clint snorted, dropping his head into his hands and running his fingers through his hair, ignoring the arrow he still firmly grasped. "The vents. The ductwork." He looked up once more, this time appearing more chagrinned than challenging. "Did you know that the ventilation system throughout the 'Avengers' portion of the tower is completely different from the rest of the building? Our actual ductwork is significantly larger, and seriously reinforced, _as if Stark were planning on people crawling through it_, and wanted to make it safer and more comfortable for them." He dropped his eyes in shame. "His desire to make us feel welcome even extended to the ventilation shafts, Tash! And I threw that back in his face."

Her mouth thinned to a hard line. "Don't do this to yourself. You couldn't have known. You had every reason to be concerned that he wanted something in return….that there would be a price for everything he gave you."

The assassin groaned in despair and turned away, staring at the far window. "But that's just it. He gave us things for weeks…weeks, Tash, and never _once_ asked for anything in return other than a little appreciation and friendship." His tone filled with self-loathing. "And we couldn't even be bothered to give him that."

"Look, Clint, you couldn't know…"

"But I could!" he exclaimed, voice taking on a desperate edge. "The more we mistreated him, the more elaborate the gifts he created to try and get us to like him." His shoulders hunched inwards involuntarily. "When I confronted him about your dress, when I thought he was trying to seduce you, he _said_ that he was only trying to get us to like him." His pitch dropped to a shamed mumble. "So I called him a whore."

Widow sucked a hissed breath in between her teeth in surprise. Stark…wouldn't have responded well to that. His prior sexual escapades notwithstanding, he'd really reformed after he started dating Pepper. Even though they had separated, he still hadn't returned to his prior promiscuity, and in fact was a little sensitive whenever the subject was broached. He'd truly turned over a new leaf, and to have his generosity equated to whoring himself… "No wonder he stopped upgrading our weapons and armor," she murmured, almost to herself.

Clint slammed the arrow in his hand angrily onto the table by his side, then unerringly flung a wadded piece of paper at her face. She neatly fielded and slowly opened it, keeping her eyes fixed on his angry face as he snapped, "Well, I'm sure this didn't help much, either."

Natasha recognized the writing; it was her own, after all. It was the terse note that she'd attached to the arrows she'd returned to Stark just before she'd left on her mission. "SHIELD research and development is legally responsible to provide all Avenger equipment; any unsolicited paraphernalia will be returned without discretion to avoid unwarranted expectations."

"Perhaps not," she acceded. "How did you come by this?" She was certain that Stark hadn't given it to him.

The corner of Barton's lip tilted up slightly in a humorless grimace. "The cabinet in Stark's workshop. I broke in through the ventilation system with a rucksack full of pork rinds, planning on putting them there. However, the thing was already filled to overflowing with gifts for us, one item piled on another, the older bits further back and the newer in the front and wedged into the spaces between. One of the oldest, and furthest back, was a quiver of really astounding arrows, an unopened disk of shooting programs, and that note."

"So how did you like them?" she asked calmly.

"I don't know; I left them there!" he growled furiously. "I apparently didn't want them, did I? SHIELD R&D makes 'all my equipment', even if it is shit."

Natasha refused to be riled. "Clint, you were in a bad place at the time; you already felt beholden to Stark for the earlier arrows and for finding out about Phil. I didn't think you would deal well with any more of Stark's smothering attentions."

"And that's my point. You returned my gifts 'for my own good', yet gave me a hassle for doing exactly the same thing with your dress? How is that fair?"

The Widow….hadn't thought of that. She winced internally as she admitted, "You're right, Clint, it's not." She was perfectly willing to acknowledge her mistake. "I'm sorry. It's not fair to get angry at you for trying to protect me, when just the day before I did the same for you."

The archer visibly deflated, his point made and accepted so readily. He sighed, "The real problem was that neither of us needed protecting at all. Tony is our _teammate_, not our enemy. Maybe it's time we started treating him like one."

The assassin nodded thoughtfully. Perhaps she needed to stop regarding their host as a 'mission' and start considering him a colleague instead. "Agreed. I tell you what; I'll even beat you at Mario Kart tonight to make up for treating you like a delicate flower, all right?"

He regarded her doubtfully. "I thought you hated those games."

She shrugged and stood, stretching. "Doesn't mean I won't beat you."

Clint snorted as he jumped to his feet. "You wish," he smirked, and headed towards the common room.

They had just turned on the system console when Steve wandered by, eyes lighting at the sight of the booting game. "Hey, Clint, you learn how to drive those cars yet?" he called over his shoulder as he entered the kitchen.

"I'll show you driving, Rogers. Think you can take us?" Clint challenged.

"Yeah, in a second. I want to grab some snacks." His voice was muffled by the closing kitchen door. The few following seconds of companionable silence were suddenly shattered by Steve's startled yelp, then the sound of a cascade of chips bags hitting the floor. "What the…?!"

Natasha looked towards the kitchen, eyebrows raised, then at Barton, who hadn't even moved from where he was accessing the last saved game. Widow tilted her head towards the kitchen meaningfully, so he shrugged.

"Guess Steve found the pork rinds." At the Widow's pointed silence, he smiled up at her in wide-eyed innocence, spreading his hands out at his sides in an exaggerated movement. "What? I had to put them _someplace_!"

The End


	4. All Night DIner

The All-Night Diner

(An "Iron Man, Yes, Tony Stark…Not Recommended" AU)

AN: From a plotbunny suggested by chapter 14 of "Misconceptions", altered a little because, hey, AU! I tried to echo some of lilsmartass' actual wording where I could, to give it a more 'legitimate' flavor. I also tried to keep it in present tense as she does, which is not my wont. I was not always successful.

Summary: What if Rhodey met Tony at a diner rather than at the Tower in Chapter 8 of IMY?

-A-A-A-A-A-

Rhodey sighs at the level of emotion in Tony's voice; something is badly wrong, and he isn't going to be able to figure it out on the phone. He needs to see his friend in person if he's going to have a prayer of discovering what the hell has been going on in that tower since the Avengers moved in. "I'm coming over," he declares in no uncertain terms.

"You don't need to…"

The hesitancy in Tony's voice gets all his mental alarm bells ringing. "I'm. Coming. Over." The Lieutenant Colonel emphasizes each word.

The engineer panics. While he desperately wants an answer to his question, to his _problems_ with becoming friends with his teammates, he doesn't want Rhodey in the Tower. There's too much of a chance that he'll run into one of the others, and then find out how badly Tony has screwed this sideways. He can't risk losing his oldest and dearest pal over this, just because he's gotten greedy and tried to befriend his boyhood idol. Thinking quickly, he suggests, "Hey, honeybear? I've been working in the lab and I'm kinda hungry right now. How about I meet you at that all night diner on Fifth? You know, the one with the great burgers?"

Rhodes can hear…something… in Tony's voice, but decides it will wait until they're face to face. "Sure, I could do a burger. Why don't you bring along a few of your latest gizmos, as long as they're reasonably portable? I'd love to see what you've been working on." The best way to get Tony to relax and spill whatever was truly bothering him has always been to get him talking about his tech, then nudge the conversation in the right direction.

"Sure thing!," comes the overly bright reply. The Air Force officer winces at how forced the cheer sounds, and he aches for his friend without even knowing why. At least, not yet.

"See you in half an hour," Rhodes confirms, then stands and starts getting dressed.

Tony runs a greasy hand through his hair and stares around his workshop in a daze. _'What should I bring?,' _he thinks desperately. _'I've really only been working on Avenger kit lately, even if they won't accept it from me.'_ He shuffles over to the cupboard and opens it, rustling tiredly through the contents and picking out a few items that he hastily shoves into a backpack. Nodding, he turns off the lights and locks down the lab, heading towards the garage. Something nondescript tonight; the Audi, perhaps.

-A-A-A-A-A-

Rhodes is already in a booth at the diner when Tony pulls up, easily finding a parking spot near the front given the time of night. The Air Force officer is spotlessly dressed in his Class B uniform, and fixes Tony with a sharply appraising gaze as the billionaire saunters into the restaurant with forced nonchalance. Tossing the pack in ahead of him, he slides quietly onto the bench seat opposite the black man and picks up a menu.

They order their meals with little discussion and, once the waitress places a large cup of coffee in front of each of them and goes to turn in their food request, Tony steels himself for some pointed questioning. After all, he's dragged Rhodey out to a greasy spoon at four in the morning, and he hasn't touched a drop of alcohol since he threatened DUM-E.

His friend surprises him though, and just makes normal conversation. "So, what new toys have you created lately?," he asks, sipping his steaming coffee carefully. "Anything fun I can steal?"

The inventor grins despite himself. "Well, Sugarplum, it just so happens that I have a few things right here." Rummaging through his bag, he pulls out two yards of a silky, folded midnight blue cloth and hands the fabric triumphantly to the fighter pilot. "What do you think?" he crows with a grin and a waggling eyebrow.

Rhodes unfolds the material to reveal a soft, six by three foot rectangle that shimmers like satin. Peering over the top of the textile, he cocks a doubtful look at his smug friend. "So…designing new Mess Dress uniforms?," he hazards, only half sarcastically. He hasn't got a clue what he's looking at, and Tony knows it.

The genius' grin widens; he's clearly enjoying showing off. He tilts his head as if considering it. "Not a bad idea. At least, if you tend to get shot while wearing them."

Now Rhodes is thoroughly confused. Wrinkling his nose, he hands the material back to the self-satisfied inventor. "What? I'm clearly missing something."

Stark holds the cloth in front of himself. "You have your Leatherman on you?," he asks as an apparent non sequitur.

"Always," replies the colonel.

"Then stab me."

"What?!" Rhodey keeps his voice down, but it's a near thing.

Tony peeks over the top of the cloth, shit-eating grin firmly in place. "Stab me. Through the material, though. Going around it would be cheating."

Rhodey is so relieved to see the man behaving in his normal (crazy) fashion that he decides to humor him. In one smooth motion he pulls his multi-tool from its sheath on his belt, flips open the knife blade, and lunges at the engineer. Tony jerks the material up in front of his face as the knife slides effortlessly to the side. The colonel's brows draw together in surprise. "What the…?"

The former weapons manufacturer hands the cloth back towards him proudly. "Body armor. Particularly made to look like normal clothes. It even deflects my repulsors!"

Rhodes reexamines the fabric with serious interest now. "Really?," he breathes in awe. "Flame, bullets, knives?"

"Acids and bases, too." Tony leans back and takes a slug of his own coffee, grimacing at the bitterness.

"You'll probably want to change it to Air Force blue; this looks like it would make a beautiful ballgown, but I don't see men going into combat draped in it." Rhodey's joking, but notes the inventor's suppressed flinch at the remark. His eyes narrow in suspicion. "You already made a dress, didn't you. For…Black Widow, right? What happened?"

The colonel's tone is firm, and Tony wilts a little under the knowing gaze, reminded of why they were here in the first place. Staring downwards in shame, he twists a corner of the material in his hands nervously as he mumbles, "Yeah, and a bunch of other spy gizmos, too."

When it becomes obvious that he isn't going to elaborate, Jim lowers his voice coaxingly. He swears sometimes Tony is like a wounded woodland creature. "Spy gizmos?"

"A purse full of sabotage materials, acids, poisons; a locator beacon necklace; hose that unravels to become rope… I even made shoes her size that had knives in the soles."

Rhodey snorts at that. They'd had more than a few 'Wild, Wild West' marathons in college. Tony quirks up a corner of his lip wryly. "What can I say? I couldn't help myself."

"Well, she must have loved it." The Air Force officer had met Natasha once, and this equipment sounds right up her alley. If nothing else, it would certainly be useful.

"She hasn't seen it," grouses Tony unhappily.

The colonel suppresses his instinctive response of 'Why not', and instead asks carefully, "What happened?"

"Well, I went by her room with that box of toys the night she was heading out to her current mission, but she wasn't in. I had to be at a benefit for Pepper and needed to be on time to show Fury that I can be reliable, so I left it in front of her door with a note to ask JARVIS. He could have walked her through everything since he'd helped me develop it. Anyway, Barton found the box first and opened it, then accused me of trying to seduce his girlfriend!" Tony tries to look offended, but only manages shame.

The colonel snorted. "What was _he_ smoking? Last I checked, body armor and shoe knives weren't considered all that romantic, and certainly not seduction material, no matter how beautifully made. If I know you, you just wanted to keep her safe on her mission." He smiled encouragingly. "What did she say when she got back?"

"She hasn't yet. She's still gone, and Barton's probably tossed the stuff anyway." Tony grumbles, but can't quite hide the raw hurt in his voice.

"What? He would throw out his girlfriend's gift? Even if she wasn't called 'The Black Widow', that isn't wise." He frowned and turned serious. "Have you talked to Rogers about this? He's the leader of the Avengers; he should take care of this sort of misbehavior in his command." LTC Rhodes is in problem-solving mode.

Tony can't meet his eyes, just keeps staring fixedly at his now-empty coffee cup. "Rogers was _there_ when Barton hit me; he pulled him off, saying that although I deserved a beating, I wasn't worth Hawkeye feeling bad if he killed me." He holds up a hand to halt Rhodey's automatic outraged exclamation. "They never gave me a chance to clarify things, so I stayed in my lab out of their way. I accidentally ran into Rogers…yesterday now, I guess… and, when I tried again to explain, he jumped back like I'd molested him and accused me of trying to sleep with him to get on the team. That's why I _called_ you. I just want them to like me, but somehow I keep fucking it all up." The babbling peters off into a shamed mumble as he turns the coffee cup around absently.

The colonel doubts that this is all Tony's fault, no matter what the other man says. Despite his armor of arrogance, the genius is astoundingly insecure, and tends to take responsibility for everything that goes wrong around him, including the common cold. A thousand questions were whirling through his head, but he starts with the most obvious first. "To get on the team? But I thought you were an Avenger already?"

Tony huffs in a self-deprecating manner and fiddles with the napkin holder. "Yeah, I did too. When Agent brought me all the stuff on the Tesseract, I thought… but Fury says I'm too undependable, too out of control. Apparently I've _always_ just been a 'consultant', even though they call me for all the battles." Their plates of food arrive just then, as well as coffee refills, and Tony falls silent as he stares at his untouched burger.

"You almost died, Tones, saving all of Manhattan! And that's not good enough to be an Avenger? This is fucked up." It's all Rhodes can think to say, but seems to sum it up nicely. There are clearly a lot of details that have been omitted from their brief conversation, but the engineer looks like he might either fly into a rage or break down completely if he continues, so Jim doesn't push.

"I know I am," Tony replies, clearly deep into guilt land. So…. break down it is, then.

"That's not what I said. Tell you what; let's eat our food, get some more coffee, wait for the sun to come up, then go kick some 'superhero' ass, what do you say?" He puts a little light-hearted lilt into his words, but he means every one of them. "If nothing else, Rogers and I need to have a little talk."

Tony just nods, evidently too tired to do anything else. Rhodey wonders how long it's been since he's gotten any real sleep, or eaten a decent meal. He watches his despondent friend push his food around his plate dispiritedly, then decides, _'Right. Time for a distraction.'_

"Soooo…..," he begins suggestively, making certain to take a big bite of his burger as Tony looks up at him. Jerking his head towards the satchel, he continues, "What else you bring to show me?"

Tony blinks owlishly at the bag for a moment before the words register and he looks sideways at the pilot, a smile playing on his lips acknowledging that the topic change was intentional, but welcome. He doesn't call him on it, and instead pulls out a lightweight folding bow he'd made Barton along with the arrows that had been returned. As he does so, a piece of paper flutters to the table top, landing directly in front of Rhodey.

"What's this?," the pilot asks as he picks it up.

"Nothing!," Tony exclaims, trying to reclaim the note.

Too late; the colonel has always been a fast reader. He pulls it slightly out of the engineer's reach as he rereads it in disbelief. "Barton… returned Starktech? Starktech that was specifically designed for him?!" The fighter pilot fixes his disbelieving gaze on his shamefaced friend. "Are you guys sure Loki didn't break his brain or something? I'm serious. Because that's just crazy."

Tony snorts and allows himself a small smile. "Well, I thought so, too. This was the _first_ thing they returned, not wanting to be 'beholden' to me. I'm not stupid; I can learn. I couldn't stop making better kit, but after a while I just stopped sending it to them; just stuffed it in a cupboard. I figure when Bruce gets back, he can pretend he made it. They might accept presents from Brucie." The inventor looks pensive at the thought.

"Tony, no." Rhodes' stern tone brooks no argument, and Tony's head jerks up, eyes dark and wide and vulnerable in a way that just infuriates his friend. "If they can't have the common decency to accept a gift politely and say 'thank you', then they don't deserve to have it."

The billionaire flashes him a warm, amused smile. "That's what JARVIS said," he comments. "My friends are ganging up on me."

Just then the front window explodes inward, showering the diner's patrons with shards of glittering glass. As people scream and stampede for the back door, Tony dives for his pack, snatching a wristband out and tossing it to Rhodes, who is already drawing his sidearm. "Put that on!" he demands. The colonel decides that arguing would take more time than just humoring the genius, so he does. The instant it's on his wrist, Tony touches a button on the side and…

Rhodey is holding Captain America's shield.

It isn't, really. It's transparent and popped up out of a watchband, so it isn't the original. But it can be separated from the micro-generator that's powering it, and the military man has no doubt that it has the same heft, aerodynamics, and protective properties as the one Rogers lugs everywhere.

"I made that for Cap," Tony hastily explains as he drapes the blue fabric over his chest and back, then snatches up the bow and quiver of arrows. "The force shield has pretty much the same capabilities as the original vibranium, with the advantage of portability. One of the things I plan on getting Bruce to distribute later." Ignoring Rhodey's frown, he gestures towards the destroyed window and the mayhem audible outside. "Shall we?" he grins.

"Let's." Rhodey answers his tired smile with a smirk of his own, and the two heroes head for the chaos.

-A-A-A-A-A-

Steve and Clint have been waiting for Stark in the common room for only two hours, but rather than calm down, the archer seems angrier by the minute. Rogers is getting ready to take a chance with the robot… computer… butler thing sending the billionaire a message, even though he's probably still asleep in bed, because waiting is looking like less and less of a good idea. Hawkeye is pacing the length of the room with controlled rage, agitatedly muttering to himself under his breath. Steve has just opened his mouth to address the issue when his phone beeps, loud and insistent.

_'Saved by the bell,'_ he thinks with relief, then his stomach plummets. It's Nick Fury. That can't bode well this time of night. If they have to assemble, he's not sure he can keep Barton in line and professional towards Stark, especially not if the other man mouths off to him. He flips open the phone with a feeling of dread.

"Director." He keeps his voice calm and tries to sound ready for action.

"Rogers. Barton there with you?" Fury sounds…. well, furious. His words are cold, precise, and oh so angry.

Steve pulls himself to attention automatically, noting Barton's gaze riveting on him as he does so. "Yes, sir. But if we're assembling, I'll need to locate Stark…"

The Director bites off a snarl. "I know where _Stark_ is; I just want to know why you two aren't with him."

"Sir?" Steve groans internally. _'What's Stark done now?'_ he thinks, even though he hasn't actually had to deal with any of the billionaire's public misbehaviors himself. He's heard enough from Hill to know that it had to happen sooner or later. If nothing else, at least he's kept the man off the team.

Fury barks loudly enough for Clint to hear him as well. "Turn on News 4, then get your butts down here to SHIELD headquarters. I want you two in my office within the hour!" The line goes dead without waiting for an acknowledgement.

"What's Stark done _this_ time?" growls Clint as he grabs the television remote and flips to the correct channel.

The screen fills with pandemonium, and the text in the corner indicates that it's live. A somewhat disheveled young woman stands center screen, microphone to her lips, while behind her is a sea of flashing lights from fire trucks, police cars, and ambulances. Two angry young men in odd shaped handcuffs are being muscled into a prisoner transport vehicle by several officers, and firefighters are just getting the upper hand on a blaze that seems to have destroyed a building to the reporter's right. _'What the…?'_ Steve is ready to suit up and go, but the newswoman's words start to sink in.

"…destroyed three city blocks were halted by the heroic actions of these two men. Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes, if I may have a word?"

The camera swings left to focus on a strong, powerfully built black man in an Air Force uniform seated on the back of an ambulance as an EMT finishes bandaging his forehead. The man's uniform is torn, his face bloodied, but his expression is impatient rather than dazed or injured. Forcibly bringing himself under control, he nods once, smartly, then says, "Certainly, but please keep it brief. I'd like to go check on my friend."

_'Rhodes…Rhodes… Now why does that name sound familiar?'_ Steve is certain he should know, but he's been so worried about Clint that he can't seem to concentrate tonight.

"Of course, I understand. You two went to college together, correct?" She honestly sounds sympathetic, which has not been Steve's experience with the media of this future.

"Yeah, MIT."

Clint realizes at the same moment Steve does, and blurts, "That's Stark's friend, uh, War Machine." Stunned at the implications, he drops heavily onto the couch in front of the television, eyes glued to the set. Steve pauses momentarily, then joins him.

"Can you tell us what happened?"

Rhodes nods polite thanks to the medic, then stands up next to the reporter, automatically assuming a semblance of parade rest. "Tony and I were having a snack and going over some of his latest inventions when all the windows in the diner blew in." He shrugged. "We grabbed whatever we had at hand that we could use as a weapon and went to see how we could help."

The news feed switches to some shaky camera footage that had been taken earlier, possibly by a cell phone. Several heavily armed men can be seen pushing a number of terrified citizens to the pavement as flames billow out of a building next to them. Suddenly, an arrow goes _through_ the Kevlar vest one of the more violent men is wearing, dropping him to the ground and allowing a few of the civilians to flee to safety. The camera swings back to the source of the shot to reveal a scruffy, bruised Tony Stark letting fly with a second shot that drops another one of the terrorists. He's holding a lightweight, folding bow and a quiver of arrows, and is oddly draped in a shiny, blue material that Steve recognizes as matching that of Natasha's confiscated dress. Clint notices it, too, then leans forward, frowning at the screen in concentration. The criminals are firing back at the unarmored man, and they both realize that the bullets are _bouncing off_ the blue fabric.

"Oh my god…" The archer trails off as he realizes that the beautiful gown he prevented Natasha from having was actually _body armor_ that was so subtly made that she'd be able to wear it on any covert op.

Steve is aghast. He remembers the small square of material that he had so viciously destroyed, that Natasha had punctured. Clint _said_ that he'd been praying that Stark would make Natasha something that would protect her when Clint couldn't, and Stark _had_. A wave of shame washes through him at the realization. He'd allowed a trained assassin to attack an unarmed civilian whose only crime was to try and protect someone he cared about, at least a little bit. His mind flits back to that night; no _wonder_ Stark thought they were mind controlled! Who in their right mind would get angry at such a thoughtful, useful gift? He then winces, recalling with embarrassment their adamant refusal to let Stark explain, and wonders what the other items in the box actually are. He'd wager a week's salary that they, too, are more than meets the eye.

Barton's face is a mixture of terror and dismay. "What if she gets hurt?" he whispers. "What if that dress could have saved her?"

Steve prays fervently that Natasha comes home safe and sound, otherwise the archer might never forgive himself.

The scene on the television freezes, then shrinks and drops into a corner of the screen as the live image of LTC Rhodes and the newswoman return. "So, I take it some of the inventions that you were discussing were for his team? That bow looks like it might be meant for a rather famous archer, and that shield you're carrying," the camera focuses temporarily on a transparent version of Steve's shield clutched tightly in the military man's right fist, "Might be destined for a certain Captain?" She smiles encouragingly.

Colonel Rhodes, however, suddenly turns cold and distant. "Actually," he corrects her, "Tony is only a _consultant_ for the Avengers. He builds them tech, supplies them with room and board, but isn't actually included in any of the team strategy sessions or training activities." Steve flushes at the words, recalling not only the meetings and trust-building exercises that Stark had been excluded from, but all the invitations Stark had extended that they had privately ridiculed and publicly declined.

The reporter is flustered. "But… with all the press conferences after the alien invasion, we were under the impression…"

Rhodes actually warms to her honest confusion. "So was Mr. Stark. He was only recently disabused of that notion, and that was one of the items we were discussing when these men so rudely interrupted or meal." He gestures behind himself at the flashing lights. "I suspect that Ms. Potts will be arranging a press conference in the near future…." he trails off distractedly, staring at the few remaining ambulances. Steve can hear the "if he survives" as loudly as if LTC Rhodes had actually spoken the words.

"So all the rebuilding that Mr. Stark financed in the name of the Avengers?," the reporter asks pointedly.

Rhodey shoots her a shark-like grin that doesn't reach his eyes. "Can actually be attributed to the generosity of Mr. Stark alone. Since he apparently isn't an Avenger, you'll just have to address your 'thank you' cards to 'Iron Man' instead."

The reporter nods, then decides to move to safer subjects. "I suspect most of our viewers are curious as to the nature of the blue material Mr. Stark was wearing. I didn't know Iron Man was trying out the 'caped crusader' look."

The lieutenant colonel flashes a brief grin at her words. "That 'material' is the most impressive piece of technological development I've seen in a while. It's body armor that is thin and pliable enough to be worn as normal clothing, but repels bullets, knives, flames, acids, and grenades. Since I'm Stark Industries military liaison, he was showing me a sample when we suddenly had the opportunity for a live demonstration."

The reporter looks confused. "If the material is so revolutionary, why is Mr. Stark currently in an ambulance on the way to a hospital?"

A black cloud of equal parts worry and anger settles over the colonel's face. "Even the best armor in the world only protects what it covers," he growls, then brings the interview to a close. "Speaking of which, I need to go check on him. If you'll excuse me?"

"Certainly. Thank you for speaking with us." The news switches to the next story, so Clint flips off the set. There's a long moment where the two Avengers stare at each other in dismay before jumping to their feet and heading for the garage.

-A-A-A-A-A-

"What the hell has been going on at that Tower?" demands Fury the instant they step into his office. Rogers winces in guilt and shame at the tone, but he knows he deserves it. It didn't help that the fastest way to reach SHIELD had been the car Stark had so generously given Clint, knowing that he could drive the others when necessary. Like tonight. The entire trip had been occupied with worry for Stark coupled with a mental recounting of all the insensitive, unfair things he had said and done to the man. Steve feels like he's about ready to hide away in shame. Still, he needs to know Stark's status before he can indulge himself.

"Begging your pardon, sir, but could you provide an update on Stark's condition before we proceed? It sounds like he was seriously injured."

Fury raises his eye from his desk, glares at them, then nods. "Bullet wound to the head. Initial examination indicates that it didn't penetrate his skull, probably because it's so thick, but he's been in and out of consciousness since the incident. That raises a concern for intracranial bleeding, so he is in the CT scanner as we speak. The one time he woke up when I was present, he made a snide remark about the lengths to which he'd go to visit Agent Coulson, so I'd say his mental faculties were intact."

Clint flinches at that, paling. "We didn't mean…" he began, only to be cut off by Fury.

"Did you know that Agent Coulson was his babysitter when he was dying of Palladium poisoning?" he asks conversationally. "Surprisingly enough, they actually became friends." The Director snorts in amusement as he recalls, "Stark has a reputation for being unable to remember names, which is complete bullshit. Coulson said so, so to this day he persists in calling the man 'Agent' rather than Phil."

_'Was there anything about Stark that they hadn't misunderstood?,'_ Steve wonders in despair.

"Still, that's not why I called you in. Initially I wanted to discuss how Stark managed to respond to an incident without either of you being notified, but Colonel Rhodes cleared that up on live television." He grimaces. "Despite the man's professionalism, this is going to be a shit storm. You saw the interview?"

Steve nods, unable to speak through his mortification.

"I'm going to have our PR department contact you both later today, and Agent Romanov once she returns from her assignment. Even if Stark and Potts play this close to the chest and decline to discuss it publicly, there will be questions…lots of questions. As Stark's status with the Initiative is now open knowledge, he's not going to be able to be the spokesperson for the team, which means," he fixes the Captain with a razor-sharp stare, "You have a lot of press conferences in your future, Captain. Better get some sleep. Dismissed."

Steve could only nod his silent acceptance as Clint leads him out of the office. Once in the corridor, Steve turns his shell-shocked gaze towards the archer, who shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "What have we done?," he asks plaintively.

"Fucked up," Clint replies, direct and precise.

Steve barks a laugh that almost sounds like a sob, drags a shaking hand over his face, then pulls himself together with visible effort. "Let's go see how Stark is doing," he suggests quietly, and the pair shuffle down the corridor towards Medbay.

-A-A-A-A-A-

It turns out that Stark has a rather severe concussion and a scalp laceration, but no bleeding in his brain or other injuries. Steve smiles as he thinks about the ruckus the billionaire will raise once he discovers that they had to shave some of his hair to put stitches in the wound. He's already been moved from the triage area to a private room, so they get the room number and go to see him.

They are greeted with a closed door and a furious LTC Rhodes. He's cleaned up and in loaner SHIELD sweats, but is still recognizably the man from the television. He stands straighter as they approach and crosses his arms over his chest as he scowls silently at them. They come to a stop in front of the door which the fighter pilot is actively blocking with his body. Through the glass observation panel Steve can see Stark lying in a bed, unnaturally still, surrounded by as much medical equipment as Coulson. He appears unconscious or asleep, with dark hollows beneath his eyes and his head swaddled in gauze. His left eye is covered with a bruise that swells it shut, and there are several similar contusions and abrasions scattered over most of his exposed visible skin. An IV runs into the back of his left hand, and a disheveled Pepper Potts sits in a chair by his side.

"Can I help you?," growls Stark's friend, and Steve startles back to meet his rage-filled eyes.

"Um, yes. We'd like to visit Mr. Stark. I'm Steve Rog…"

"I know who you are," snarls Rhodes venomously. "Tony's so-called 'teammates'. I also know what you've done, at least some of it."

Steve drops his eyes to the floor in shame, but Clint is riled by the perceived attack. "What, Stark a tattle-tale as well?," he taunts before he remembers himself. Steve closes his eyes in embarrassment; he's let Clint get away with verbally abusing Stark for so long that it's become second nature to the man, even now when they are discovering how wrong they've been.

Rhodey snorts derisively. "Hardly. The only reason I even have an inkling is because I've known Tony for so many years that I can hear what he's _not_ saying almost as loudly as what he does. That, and he tends to be a lot more honest when badly concussed - he can't concentrate enough for his usual verbal sleight-of-hand."

"'Tends to be'?" Steve asks in alarm. "Has this happened before?"

Rhodes gives him a questioning look. "He was Iron Man for a long time before he tried to join your little boy band, Captain. Didn't you read his file? If Coulson gave Tony files on all the members of the Initiative, I'm certain he gave them to you as well."

"Stark hacked our files!," exclaims Clint defensively before Steve could answer.

Rhodes just lifts an eyebrow. "That's just because he returned them when asked, not having had the chance to study them. However, apparently after you people moved in he made an innocuous joke that hit a sore spot with you, Agent Barton, and Agent Romanov literally threatened to _kill_ him if he did it again. Out of self-defense he reacquired the files to try and avoid any other sore spots. He reasoned that since you had all read his and he had been given yours to read but hadn't, _it was __his__ fault that he was being terrorized with death threats in his own home_." This last bit is hissed out furiously as the Air Force officer drops his arms to his sides and clenches his fists so tightly that they turn white. "Imagine his surprise when he 'did his homework', discovering Agent Coulson's continued existence in the process, and then was _ostracized_ for it!"

Clint's eyes widen to saucers as the truth of the matter sinks in. No, it wasn't the typical way people interacted, but Stark seems to have the social skills of a sentient toaster. The way Rhodes put it, it makes perfect sense.

"He…kept giving us stuff, trying to buy his way onto the team," Clint tries weakly as his preconceived assumptions about the billionaire continue to crumble to dust.

"That's just Tony. He likes to give things to people he cares about; things they might like or need, things to keep them safe. Maybe you should try to get to know him before you condemn him for just being nice." He snorted. "Trust me. If he tries to bribe you, it won't be that subtle. A checkbook will probably be involved."

"So…the things we saw on television?" Steve hazards.

Rhodes grunts, annoyed. "Yeah, made to keep his…well, I can't use the word teammates, can I? … his 'associates' safe. Even when you started returning things, not wanting to 'owe' him any favors, he just kept making stuff. A portable energy shield for Cap, a bow that folds down to the size of a wallet with a twenty-five pound pull, arrows which were returned, body armor for the Widow which you confiscated and possibly discarded…shall I continue?"

"Why did he think we didn't want the equipment?" asks Rogers in surprise.

The pilot flings a balled note at Steve's chest. "Maybe he got the idea from this. Or maybe it was the _beating he received_ for the body armor and knife-shoes!"

Steve flushes as he opens the paper and Clint peers over his shoulder. Rhodes just looks daggers at him from where he still stands blocking the doorway. The terse memo is in Natasha's precise lettering informing Stark that SHIELD R&D was responsible for their equipment, and that the upgraded arrows were being returned so that there would be no awkward expectations later, as well as a request to stop giving them things unless ordered to do so by Fury.

Clint looks shocked. "Why…why would Nat…"

Steve remembers her mentioning this. "She thought you couldn't handle it, Clint. You already felt you owed Stark so much, yet you resented him at the same time…" he trails off helplessly. Clint looks like he's been stabbed.

Rogers turns dead, guilty eyes to meet Rhodes' angry, narrowed ones. "We're not going to be able to visit him right now, are we?" he asks. He'd really like to make sure that Howard's boy is all right after being in a battle that Steve hadn't even known about, but he understands why this man might not want them anywhere near his friend.

The Lieutenant Colonel's mouth quirks sardonically and he nods once. "I see we understand each other, Captain. His condition is such that he's not ready for general visitors yet, just family. Right now, that means me and Pepper, since he has no one else." He starts to return to the room, but turns, hand on the knob, and fixes a steely eye on Rogers. "He wanted it to be you guys, too. He tried so very hard. Do you know why we were really in that diner, Captain? The equipment was only an excuse." He shakes his head sadly. "He called me at three in the morning because he wanted me to tell him how to get you ingrates to _like_ him."

With that, he opens the door and disappears inside. Steve and Clint can only stare at the closed entrance in humiliation.

The End


	5. Word Games

(A missing scene from "Iron Man Yes, Tony Stark… Not Recommended", right after Rhodes convinces Tony to get some sleep)

Inspiration: "Rhodey is leaning back in the only comfortable chair playing some kind of word game with JARVIS and throwing what appears to be his own balled up socks for DUM-E to catch." - Chapter 9, "Iron Man Yes"

Word Games

by kerravon

Rhodey looped an arm around Tony's shoulders, gently steering him towards the old, well-worn leather couch wedged against the wall where the scientist frequently caught catnaps when he really couldn't (or wouldn't) leave the lab. The faded brown sofa had seen better days, with permanent grease stains marring several spots and the occasional torn seam peeking out along an edge. Still, the cushions were soft, and clearly dented in just the right places to comfortably support Tony's hips and shoulders, attesting to its frequent use. Levering the intoxicated man onto the central cushion, the colonel grasped his ankles, swinging them up to rest next to the couch arm while the bemused engineer looked on drowsily.

Snagging a throw pillow from behind his back and propping it on the opposite end of the impromptu daybed, Rhodes gently pushed Tony's shoulders down until he was completely flat, head resting on the well-used padding. His friend blinked up owlishly, trying unsuccessfully to focus on his face. "Thanks, y'no…" he mumbled gesturing vaguely around the room. "Th'x fer makin' them listen…"

"Shhhhhh…" soothed Rhodes, keeping a tight leash on the rage he felt for the men upstairs, "No problem." He grabbed a ragged, plaid blanket from the back of the sofa and draped it over the weary figure as the exhausted genius' eyes slid closed of their own volition and his breath rapidly deepened into slumber. The Air Force officer crossed his arms as he critically studied the billionaire's unguarded face. He'd clearly not been eating or sleeping on anything resembling a regular schedule; his eyes were sunken dark hollows, his skin was drawn and waxy, and he looked like he'd lost a good ten pounds since the last time Jim had laid eyes on him. Grease smudged his forehead and cheek, and his nails were almost black with grime. A small burn from a soldering iron graced the index finger of his left hand, and dried blood was visible on his forearm below a scratch in the skin that might have once benefited from stitches. Even in repose Tony's forehead had a crease of worry between drawn eyebrows, and his lips turned down unhappily. Rhodey closed his own eyes and inhaled, trying to calm down, then turned away from the couch and headed for Tony's favorite chair. He…just couldn't look at his friend right that second. He needed to collect his thoughts and regain his composure before the genius awoke in a few hours; right now, everything needed to be about Tony. His own fury could wait.

"JARVIS?", he asked quietly, taking care not to disturb his resting friend. "Does Tony have any audio headphones around this place?"

"I am afraid not. He has quite a few noise canceling headsets for hearing protection, but none that actually connect to a player for the purpose of transmitting sound." JARVIS sounded apologetic. "The last set was cannibalized for.."

"That's all right," Jim smiled, then glanced over at the couch. "I don't want to disturb Tony, but I'd like to hear the conversation leading up to what I witnessed upstairs."

"Just the part involving Mr. Stark? Or as much as I have access to?"

The colonel tilted his head curiously. "What don't you have access to?" He'd never asked, but with the number of threats to Tony's life or freedom over the years, he'd assumed that all areas with admittance to Tony's suite or workshop would at least have audio records, if not visual.

"For the comfort of the team, Sir requested passive scanning only in their suites unless my name was specifically spoken."

Rhodey shot the divan an exasperated look. "That's nowhere near adequate security for…" he began.

JARVIS interrupted smoothly, "And yet Captain Rogers, Agent Barton, and Agent Romanov objected quite strenuously to even that degree of monitoring, indicating that it was too intrusive."

"Really," the colonel gritted out between clenched teeth, still carefully keeping his voice low. "Right now, JARVIS, I don't give a flying fuck what those assholes _object_ to."

"As you say, sir." The AI sounded pleased with his response. "Shall I show you the footage that I _was_ able to record earlier this evening?"

"Yes, but please keep the volume down," he murmured, glancing over at the sofa once more. "Tony really needs to rest."

"Yes, sir." The screen before him flickered to life, revealing an irate Clint Barton stalking angrily into the common room, followed more slowly by Steve Rogers.

"Clint, I don't think…" began the Captain's voice, only to be interrupted by a moan from the direction of the couch. Rhodey made a slicing motion with his hand, and the film snapped off. Standing to better see his friend, he was surprised at the change. While earlier Tony had seemed dead to the world, now the sleep-deprived engineer was tossing his head from side to side, brow furrowed in consternation. Rhodes was next to him in a flash, perched on the unused sofa corner by Tony's head. Brushing the sweat-soaked hair lightly off his friend's face, he murmured "Shhh, it's OK" repeatedly, a reassuring mantra, until the billionaire settled back into a less troubled sleep. Once certain that Tony was wrested from his nightmare, the fighter pilot carefully glided back to his chair and addressed the AI again.

"OK, apparently Tony's subconscious recognizes our voices as 'safe', JARVIS, but not Rogers'." (And didn't THAT make Rhodey see red.) "Tell you what. Why don't you and I play some word games. That way, the familiar voices will subliminally reassure him that he's safe," the colonel flashed a shark-like smile, "And I'll still get some information about what's been going on around here."

"Ready when you are, Colonel Rhodes," replied the computer dispassionately.

"All right, let's call the first game 'Five Times'. I'd like you to give me five instances where the geniuses that make up this so-called 'team' misconstrued something Tony did or said." Rhodes, angry as he was, recognized that people could easily get the wrong impression from his friend, particularly if they didn't bother to do more than take things at surface value. Of course, these jerks had lived with Tony, at his expense, for weeks now, so they shouldn't have needed _Rhodes'_ intervention to open their eyes.

"Do you wish only instances directly observed, or would conversation recorded outside Sir's hearing be admissible?"

"Actually, the conversations are likely to be the most revealing, so both, please. Just, in your own voice, so as not to disturb Tony." He glanced over to where the other man still slumbered peacefully.

"Certainly. First, upon arrival at the Tower, the group interpreted Sir's attention to detail and gifting of a floor to each of them as 'creepy', and were certain that he wanted something in return. In Captain Rogers' case, he expressed his conviction that Mr. Stark planned to demand the right to invasive medical experimentation."

Rhodes blinked. "Excuse me?" he asked incredulously. "Has Tony ever even joked about wanting to experiment on Rogers?" After all, Tony was an engineer, not a geneticist. If anyone on this team would want the Captain's blood or tissue, it was Banner.

"Not within my sensors," the AI replied dryly.

Rhodes nodded, toeing his shoes off to get more comfortable, then stretched out a little in the chair. "All right, then. Next?"

"Two: all the food provided by Mr. Stark in light of Captain Roger's accelerated metabolism was verbally ascribed to Mr. Stark's wastefulness and desire to flaunt his wealth."

Rhodes gritted his teeth, not bothering to respond to that stupidity. "Next?"

"Three: when Sir provided Agent Barton with improved arrows in the hopes of socially interacting with him in an environment where he was comfortable, specifically the range, the archer kept demanding what was required in payment, finally verbally concluding that he was a 'test monkey'. When Sir insisted that it was simply a gift, and made a spurious comment about Mr. Barton's childhood Christmas experiences, the agent became quite offended and departed with the arrows. Agent Romanov then proceeded to threaten Sir's life should similar offense occur in the future."

"What?!" Rhodey hissed, loudly enough that another groan issued from the couch. The colonel held his breath as Tony rolled onto his side, then settled back to sleep. Once he heard the soft snoring resume, Rhodes lowered his voice significantly and repeated, "What? She _threatened_ him?"

"Her exact words were: 'If you ever make another crack about Clint's family, they will never even think to look for your body.'"

The pilot took several deep breaths to calm down. He knew his friend was already a little afraid of the assassin after she had remorselessly stabbed him in the neck during the time he was dying of Palladium poisoning, so he would have taken her words to heart. Rhodey clenched his fists in fury; Tony had been terrorized in his own home! By someone he was providing with room and board in one of the most high-tech skyscrapers in Manhattan. Oh, she was not going to get away with that. "Where is this bitch right now?" he growled. No one threatened his friends.

JARVIS sounded regretful. "Agent Romanov is out of the country on assignment."

The Air Force officer closed his eyes. It was just as well; he'd promised Tony that he'd stay with him while alcohol was in his system, and the inventor didn't need even the mildest betrayal in his current state. Still, he was beginning to understand why the man hadn't eaten in days; he was not only resorting to his tried and true coping mechanism of hiding in his workshop, but he was probably half-terrified to go upstairs for fear of inadvertently offending Barton and being 'disappeared' by Romanov. He growled in frustration, "So, what was Tones supposed to do? Develop psychic powers?"

"I am unaware of what Agent Romanov expected from him, but he returned to his quarters and immediately accessed the SHIELD database in order to glean information that might prevent such inadvertent insults in the future."

Rhodes slumped a little at that, dropping his face to his hand. "Oh, Tony," he moaned, shaking his head. "Hacking their files? That couldn't have ended well. What were you thinking?"

JARVIS sounded primly offended on Tony's behalf. "His reasoning was that, as Agent Coulson had already given him the files at the time of the Chitauri invasion, and as the others had already likewise been provided his file for review, that he was simply accessing information that he should have read earlier. He felt responsible for the insult because he hadn't 'done the required reading'."

Jim's forehead creased in consideration. That actually made sense. "How did the others take it?," he asked, because he had no doubt that they had found out. They were spies, after all.

"Not well. Agent Romanov voiced the opinion that Sir accessed the files in order to 'test the boundaries of my tolerance' and obtain more personal data with which to emotionally attack the three of them." Rhodes could hear the quotes in the AI's voice.

"Seriously? After she threatened his life? I thought that this woman wrote SHIELD's profile on Tony. How could she not know him better than that?" The colonel was truly confused, then snorted derisively. "If that's the type of information gathering going on in that organization, it's no wonder they didn't want Tony as an Avenger. He probably scared them; he's too competent."

"Just so," agreed the disembodied voice of the computer. "Shall I continue?" At Rhodes' nod, the computer went on. "As you are already aware of the misunderstanding with Agent Romanov's body armor, I will not use that example for this exercise. Therefore, four: numerous equipment upgrades Sir developed for the improved safety of the team were construed as an attempt to 'buy' his way onto the Avengers, when in fact Sir believed himself to be a full member of the team as of Agent Coulson's presentation of the tesseract problem. These items were either returned or openly ridiculed."

"Hence, the cabinet," Rhodes murmured, glancing at the tall, metal, double-door locker he'd been examining earlier. Tony, in crying even the few tears the pilot had seen, revealed how deeply this had hurt. Given his messed up life, the engineer had long ago resigned himself to not being appreciated as a person, and wore his 'I am an asshole' persona like shining armor. But rejection of his tech? Unheard of. Hell, even Justin Hammer wanted Tony's tech, yet these ingrates had returned it unopened, or made jokes about it at Tony's expense. That must have cut him to the core. Jim glanced around the room for a hammer, again feeling the urge to smash everything in that cabinet.

He was interrupted by JARVIS. "Five: the 'Captain America' trading cards Sir sent to Agent Coulson as a 'get well' gift were construed as an attempt to circumvent the team, who 'were on to his tricks', and buy his way onto the team through bribing Agent Coulson. The belief was that, as he had loved the gift and refused to return it at Barton's behest, Sir would require Mr. Coulson to appoint him as Avenger or would declare the cards a 'loan' and demand their return himself. As justification for a confrontation, Agent Barton equated 'protecting' Agent Coulson from Sir to the Captain protecting his men from Hydra."

Rhodey's eyes widened in shock. "He didn't!", he exclaimed in a whisper, taking care this time not to disturb his exhausted friend. "I'll bet Rogers pointed out a couple of problems with that analogy!" As an Air Force officer with men of his own under his command, Rhodes couldn't imagine letting an airman get away with equating another squad member with the enemy. The soldier making the disparaging remarks would be lucky not to find himself transferred out of the unit!

"No, sir, he did not," commented JARVIS haughtily. "Any objections he began to make were overridden by Agent Barton, then the conversation was diverted to the supposed attempt by Sir to seduce the Captain."

_'What the Hell? How was this idiot in charge of his own toothbrush, much less a team of headstrong, super powered, dangerous human beings like the Avengers?' _ He sighed and rubbed his forehead. This certainly wasn't the hero of his childhood, the leader of the Howling Commandos. Either the legends that grew over the years were grossly inaccurate, or 'The Captain' had a little freezer burn of the brain from his long hibernation in the Arctic.

Still, back to the patiently waiting AI, "What was that all about, JARVIS? I get that Tone was using his, 'I am the sexiest man in this room, don't you want to know me better' shtick to try and make friends with Rogers, but why now? It's been weeks!"

"Sir was quite upset by the misunderstandings, particularly the body armor, and had been placing increasingly caustic blame on himself in the process. He was trying to get Captain Rogers to take five minutes and listen to an explanation."

"The…explanation that he finally managed, once Rogers was listening to _ME_?"

"Quite so."

Rhodes frowned, crossing his arms. "This whole thing doesn't make any sense. Why listen to a stranger who just hit you in the jaw and ignore your own teammate? Why allow that teammate to be verbally equated with the enemy? Why refuse upgraded equipment that most soldiers would, and do, die for? Unless…." An unpleasant idea occurred to him. "JARVIS, is it possible that the Captain disliked Tony before he ever even moved in here?"

"I believe that to be highly probable."

Rhodes narrowed his eyes. "But, he liked Howard Stark?"

"From the several conversations on record, he not only liked but admired the senior Mr. Stark, and regrets that Sir is not more like his father."

Rhodey jumped up and paced angrily around the room, careful not to disturb the still-sleeping scientist. "So, he hates Tony because he isn't Howard?" he finally managed to spit out.

"That would indeed fit the data collected," responded the disembodied voice.

"Oh, Tony is not going to like that," he muttered to himself, settling back onto the chair. He decided to give himself time to process that information.

"OK, JARVIS, new question. Earlier, when I asked Tony why he hadn't told Pepper or myself that this was going on, he said that he didn't want anyone to know that he 'was so fucking worthless Captain America wouldn't invite him to his bonding exercises'. Can you list five times the Avengers had a team event from which Tony was intentionally excluded?"

"Easily. One: upon arrival, after being shown their floors and the tower amenities, Mr. Stark invited the group to lunch. The three declined, but upon entering the elevator, discussed to which café they should proceed upon leaving the building."

JARVIS paused, but when the Air Force colonel simply sat with his arms crossed and glowered, he continued. "Two: after declining numerous social invitations extended by Mr. Stark, the three Avengers finally deigned to attend one involving videogames. Mr. Stark remained unawares in his workshop until an Alert was sounded. Through the armor's interface I overheard Mr. Barton decline Sir's offer to continue the gaming after the battle and order pizza. However, upon their return, Captain Rogers and Ms. Romanov prevailed upon Hawkeye to continue. Mr. Barton agreed contingent upon Mr. Stark not being invited. The others acquiesced." The AI paused, which caused Rhodey to raise an eyebrow in surprise. "Sir…came up to the common room looking for company, but after noting the three playing the games together that they refused to play with him, retreated back to his lab without eating."

Jim realized that he was clenching his fists so hard that his broken hand was throbbing.

"Three: Director Fury summoned the Avengers for at least six different team meetings regarding logistics and training. Sir was not notified of any of them."

"Four: as a team-building exercise, the Avengers went on a three-day camping/survival trip. Mr. Stark was neither invited nor notified as to its occurrence."

Rhodes snorted. "For that? It was probably just as well. Tony hates camping with the white-hot passion of the sun."

"Yes, sir," agreed JARVIS instantly. "Five: from discussions held in the common areas, I deduce that on three separate occasions the group has attended training exercises meant to hone their ability to fight together as a team and minimize injury in the event of actual battle. Sir was never included until there _was_ an actual battle, at which point he was invariably called."

Rhodey couldn't sit still. He sprang to his feet and began to pace, taking care to remain quiet and not disturb Tony. "So… it's fine and dandy to rely on Iron Man when there are actual battles to fight, but otherwise he doesn't count at all? What do they think he is, their butler?"

"According to what Sir said upon returning from the one Avengers meeting he accidentally discovered and attended, that was exactly what Agent Barton considers him. This was the same meeting where he was informed that he did not meet the standards for membership in the Avengers, and that he had always been considered only a 'Consultant'."

Rhodes' knees buckled in shock, dropping him heavily back into his chair. "Oh, Tony…" he whispered, staring aghast at his dozing friend and running a hand through his hair. "Oh my God. This isn't a team, it's a train wreck. What is Rogers thinking?"

As the stunned surprise receded, Rhodey shut his eyes tightly against the surge of fierce rage that swamped him and counted slowly backwards from ten with each inhalation. It seemed to take an inordinately long time to calm down and suppress the almost overpowering instinct to rush back upstairs, find Rogers, and deck him.

Just as he was finally cooling off, he felt a nudge against his knee. Eyes flying open at the thought that he might have awoken his exhausted, distraught friend, he glanced down to see…DUM-E. The curious bot poked his knee again gently, then rotated its head/arm in a clear gesture that asked, "Are you all right?". He swiveled to face the couch, then chirped questioningly as he began to trundle towards it. Rhodey jumped up to intercept the well-meaning bot, turning him back towards the chair.

"Look, I know you're worried," he murmured softly, (talking to robots - how was this his life?), "But Tony needs to sleep right now."

DUM-E twisted so that he could 'see' the couch once more, then chirped disconsolately. Jim pulled it back around, then knelt next to Tony's oldest friend. "Tell you what; JARVIS and I have been playing a game. How about you and I play one, too?"

He wasn't sure how the robot did it, but somehow it radiated doubt. He put on his best paparazzi smile, which did nothing to rival Tony's, and wheedled, "Come on, it'll be fun!"

DUM-E hesitantly nodded its head/arm once and waited. Rhodes, once he was certain that the bot wasn't going to make a break for the couch to poke Tony, quickly sat and pulled off his socks, wadding them up into a ball, then pointing at the far wall. "Go over there. I'll toss my socks to you; you catch them and either throw or bring them back. Sound good?"

DUM-E nodded enthusiastically, and the game was on. For all of Tony's disparaging remarks, the bot was a fast learner, and soon was catching over half of the colonel's throws. Once the pilot was certain that DUM-E understood the game, he addressed the AI again. "Hey JARVIS? Listen, I think I've heard enough for right now; much more and I won't be able to control myself. How about a different game?"

"Certainly, sir," came the impassive reply.

Rhodey flashed a wicked grin at the ceiling. "OK. For this we'll take turns. Each turn consists of one word on the given subject, and has to start with the next letter of the alphabet. First word starts with 'A', the second 'B', and so on. If one of us gets stuck, the other can take over that letter. If we both get stuck, we'll go on to the next subject. Sound good?"

"Yes, sir. How is the winner determined?"

"Don't worry, we're both gonna be winners. You'll enjoy this, JARVIS. The first subject is," his smile got impossibly wider, "Things that should happen to the asshats that have been mistreating Tony: 'A' - Adjudication."

The computerized voice sounded suddenly smug as JARVIS _got it_. "'B' - Banishment."

"C - Castration." Rhodey smirked, then tossed his sock-ball to DUM-E again.

"D - Denounce," intoned the AI. The colonel was quite gratified to note that the computer had avoided all permutations of 'death' and 'die'. Given how much of the tower was automated, it would really be disturbing to have JARVIS go all HAL 9000.

"E - Eviscerate." He himself had no such compunctions.

"F - Flog."

They continued like that for some time, with JARVIS just saying "X - Xenophobia" (which was stretching things a little, but hey 'X'), when they noticed an alteration in Tony's breathing. DUM-E and Rhodes realized simultaneously that he was awake and hurried over, games forgotten. The genius looked embarrassed about breaking down the night before, and quickly donned his 'I am an asshole' persona. Rhodey hated that Tony was so insecure right now that he felt he had to hide, even from Jim. DUM-E plucked at his hair, and he threw out his best media smirk and caroled, "Morning!".

Rhodes winced at the forced cheerfulness in the genius' voice. Tony must have seen something in his expression, because he frowned and asked, "What's wrong, Sugarplum?"

"Yeah, no. You're not going to do that." Rhodes was angry at the situation that was making his best friend a prisoner in his own home, causing him to hide his hurt and fear for so long that it was consuming him from the inside out. But now his friends were involved, and this was going to stop. Between him and Pepper, those people would pay for what they'd done, and Tony would stop having to wear a mask in his own home.

The End


	6. Garage Sale

Garage Sale

by kerravon

Inspiration: "The anger in her chest at watching him force Tony to go rooting through the ghosts of a lifetime of bad memories for a few battered pencil tins and a watch sears her." - Chapter 3, 'Cuts And Bruises'

"I'm a consultant."

Pepper sighs and closes her eyes, absently massaging the spot above her right eyebrow that always seems to throb whenever she's this overtired. It's been nearly a week since Rhodey's phone call alerting her that all was not well in paradise, and she's still haunted by the reflection of a lifetime of cumulative rejection and 'not good enough' that flashed through Tony's eyes in the brief, unguarded moment that he spat those words. His poorly disguised self-loathing still coils in her gut, a dark, ugly creature that howls for revenge. Sure, Tony tried to feign nonchalance, pretend it was his choice, but she knows better. She'd been part of the initial planning stages for 'Avengers Tower', and could vividly recall the genius's childlike delight as he eagerly designed each floor for 'his team', tailored the amenities to the projected occupant, even labeled the individual floor plans with symbols representing every Avenger. He'd anxiously sought her advice, trying to make every detail perfect; an archery range for Clint, a weapons locker for Natasha, and a studio for Cap.

After decades of hero worship, there was no way he was going to be rational when it came to Rogers. It had taken her hours to talk him out of buying an art supply store and dumping it in the studio he had created; even so, he purchased a truly astonishing array of paper, pencils, and charcoal for a man who had purportedly only ever used a small sketchbook and graphite. The floor to ceiling windows were unique to that room of the tower; Tony had spent days engineering the structural tweaks to maintain building integrity while still giving Rogers the most awe-inspiring view of Manhattan in existence. Recalling that the Captain not only didn't appreciate the thought and effort, but ridiculed it as 'creepy', sends a shudder of renewed fury through her. Opening her eyes, she gets back to work with a (heh) vengeance.

At least she doesn't have to worry about Tony for a couple of days. His biannual meeting with the California division of SI's R&D department is this week, and he's currently safely ensconced in the Malibu house, away from the insensitive bullies currently living in his home in New York. He always looks forward to checking out the developments that the clever minds of his hand-picked California team (as opposed to the sycophants in New York) have made in the last six months, and they, in turn, love his 'think outside the box' approach to solving what had been previously insurmountable problems. For once he can really use the ego boost that provides, after being belittled by his icon for the past six to eight weeks. He even called last night and cheerfully informed her that he's going to stay in Malibu a few extra days to 'clear some things up'. She's secretly pleased, since that gives her the extra time she needs to finalize her revenge on the super soldier. She wants all her ducks in a row when she confronts the insensitive clod.

Thinking about Tony puttering away in his basement lab in Malibu makes her smile. She glances at her watch, noting that it's only 6 pm in California, so, on a whim, she picks up her phone and dials, hoping to catch him before he heads out to dinner. Her anticipatory smile slowly fades as the phone continues to ring, then eventually flips to voicemail.

"Hi, Tony, it's Pepper. Just wanted to check in, see how you were doing. Call me when you get this?" He's probably deep in engineer-land and didn't hear the ring. At least, she hopes so.

She returns to the rental agreement on her desk, reading the fine print with fervor and making corrections for the SI legal department to review in the morning. When she next looks up, it's two hours later, her neck has spasmed from tension, but the paperwork is perfect. She decides to try Tony again.

She actively frowns when she reaches the voicemail a second time. Not that he hasn't let her leave up to seventeen messages before responding in the past, but something about this makes her uncomfortable. Her mind keeps flashing back to the footage JARVIS showed her once of Obie ripping his heart out of his chest, and cold chills race up her spine.

Fine. She knows she's being silly and superstitious, but there's no reason Tony has to find out. "JARVIS? Can you confirm the location of Mr. Stark?" she asks her computer.

"Sir is in his Malibu abode," comes the instant reply, which is reassuring. Obie had disconnected JARVIS when he attacked.

"Is he… all right?" She doesn't know how else to phrase it. "Does he need assistance?"

The pause that follows makes her heart speed up. "Further definition is required."

Oh, that can't be good. She flips to CEO mode and narrows her eyes. "Where is Mr. Stark precisely?"

"He is in the living room." Not the workshop, then.

"Is he with someone?" It hurts her more than she'd care to admit to find that he's moved on, but she knows she no longer has any right to the indulgence of jealousy, so viciously suppresses it. Still, she doesn't want to accidentally get an eyeful if he made a hook-up this evening.

"Sir is currently alone."

"Show me, then, but don't bother Mr. Stark."

The computer screen blossoms into a high-definition view of the floor space where the piano used to sit. Tony never replaced it after its accidental destruction, and Obie was the only one to ever really use the thing, anyway. Now, the area is covered with vague piles of papers and trinkets spread out over the carpet. There are several old, empty, weather-beaten cardboard boxes to one side, presumably where the detritus littering the floor came from. Tony sits cross-legged in the center of the mess, staring at a letter in one hand as he takes a generous swig directly from the bottle of Lagavulin clutched in the other. Her eyes widen. He's pretty seriously drunk if he's consuming 12 year old scotch like it's Kool-Aid. She checks her watch and subtracts the three hours; it's only just after eight there. This does not bode well.

"What's he doing, JARVIS?" she asks, uncharacteristic trepidation in her voice.

"Sir is in the process of sorting through several boxes of memorabilia collected by Mr. Howard Stark," replies the AI unhappily.

Pepper sucks in a hissed breath. "Why?" she growls before she can help herself. Tony had not had a happy childhood. His father had always considered him a 'sissy', not 'man' enough to run a multibillion dollar corporation in the ruthless fashion he had, and had not been reluctant to tell him so. At least, when he paid any attention to him at all. Tony had grown up being told repetitively how he'd never measure up to a man long since believed dead, the man who was now living in his New York home. The man who had spent the last two months telling the engineer the exact same things.

When his father had died, his genius son had merely boxed up his possessions and never looked at them again, simply hauled them from home to home as he moved. Pepper suspects that he couldn't bring himself to do so, fearing the memories that sorting through his father's things would raise. After all the ego-bashing he's endured since his 'team' moved in, why in the world would he subject himself to the emotional trauma of doing this now?

"It would be most efficient if I showed you security footage," JARVIS suggests helpfully.

"All right." Pepper was confused, but trusted JARVIS' judgement.

The screen changes from the live video streaming from a broken, intoxicated Tony in Malibu to an image of the communal kitchen in the New York Tower. Steve Rogers sits slumped dejectedly at the table, idly turning his coffee cup around in distracted circles.

"Rogers," she spits, leaning forward. "I might have known." She glances at the date stamp; this was taken the day before everything went to hell.

Tony comes through the far door then, and Pepper's breath catches. She's never seen him so…beaten before, even that morning in the conference room. Shoulders slumped from too many sleepless nights, clothes filthy, hands and arms covered in scratches and grease, hollows beneath his eyes that make his pallid face positively cadaverous. He stops for a second, eyes widening as he sees Rogers, then shrugs, straightens his back with an effort, and shuffles determinedly towards the coffeemaker.

He's so…silent. With a start, Pepper realizes that Tony is actually a little _afraid_ of the larger man, and that's wrong on so many levels. She's watching her best friend hunch over the coffee pot, drumming his fingers in the tense silence, when he startles as the silence is broken by the Captain.

"I heard Howard ended up with most of my stuff, after I...after," Rogers barks angrily, as if Tony's father had no right to collect Steve's meager possessions.

Tony turns wide, surprised eyes towards him. "I...yeah. Yeah I guess, he has a few things," he manages to stammer out.

Rogers looks down at the table, hands clenched around his own mug and jaw tight. "Would you find it for me? I'd like it back," he spits gruffly.

"I've got kind of a lot going on," Tony hedges. Pepper feels tears prickle her eyes. She knows all the mental baggage the billionaire carries concerning his father, that he can barely stand to hear the man's name, much less root through his stuff.

"Look Stark," Rogers spits disdainfully, "I know you've probably never had to do a hard day's work in your life but this is important."

Pepper's breath catches in indignation, even as she winces at the impending verbal evisceration; Tony never takes that kind of rubbish from anybody. 'Never had to do a hard day's work in his life'? How _dare_ the man! Tony does the work of three men on a _good _day; more if he doesn't 'waste time' sleeping or eating, as is his wont. Even if the Captain has no idea what the responsibilities of running SI, doing R&D, and being Iron Man entail, anyone with eyes could look at the man standing in front of him and see not only all the evidence of hard work, but the waves of exhaustion pouring off of him.

To her shock, Tony drops his head in abject shame instead. "Dad's archives are at the Malibu house," he mumbles. "I've got a meeting in California next week. I'll look your stuff out then OK?"

"Thank you," Rogers says stiffly as he glares daggers.

The video abruptly switches to the live feed of Tony slowly pawing through his Dad's old things, half-heartedly sorting out the occasional object into a clean, small box next to the now-empty bottle of scotch.

Ms. Potts can barely see through the clouds of rage. _'How dare Rogers do this to my Tony!' _ She has half a mind to interrupt the billionaire and force him to burn the lot, but she knows that his subsequent embarrassment will be worse than what he's going through right now. Voice unnaturally calm, she asks, "JARVIS, which possessions of Mr. Rogers has Mr. Stark located so far?"

"Three pencil cases, a nonfunctioning watch, assorted loose papers, and a photograph," came the dispassionate reply.

She closes her eyes and forces herself to calm down, then sighs, "Turn off the feed, JARVIS, but keep monitoring, OK? Please let me know immediately if he needs… intervention." Eyes snapping open, she hisses, "And let me know if he finds anything of more monetary value than a…" she snorts, "broken watch and some battered pencil tins." She stands to go home, gathering the papers on her desk with savage satisfaction. As she reaches the door, she pauses. "Oh, and JARVIS?"

"Yes, Ms. Potts?"

"If you discover any boxes that Tony misses, notify me." She pauses thoughtfully. "If the Captain hasn't straightened his act out by then, I think you and I will have a star-spangled garage sale."

"Certainly, Ms. Potts."

"Thank you, JARVIS." She smiles, saccharine sweet, then turns out the light.

End


	7. Late Night Movies

Late Night Movies

An "Iron Man Yes" AU

Summary: After their eyes are opened by LTC Rhodes, Steve and Clint angst for a while, then go to bed, where they sleep poorly. What if… Steve couldn't sleep at all? An "Iron Man Yes" AU that falls between chapter 8 and 9.

The tossing and turning has gotten ridiculous. It has been over an hour since Steve crawled into bed, heartsick and ashamed, to try and escape for a while through dreams. Perhaps it was the threat of those same dreams that has him still wide-eyed and alert. Sighing, Steve gives it up for a lost cause and throws his blankets off, rising to do something other than 'not sleep'. Perhaps he will catch a nap later.

What bothers him most was how he'd misinterpreted Stark's actions. All his life he's prided himself on his ability to read people; how had he messed up so badly in this instance?

He swallows nervously as he sits before the screen in his living room, then girds his courage and addresses Tony's robot…computer thing. "JARVIS? Are you there?"

"Yes, Captain Rogers. How may I be of service?" Is it his imagination, or does the computerized voice sound cold?

He is hesitant as he says, "Ummm… I know you have no reason to help me, but I'd like to figure out where I… how I…went wrong. I have to learn from my mistakes. I don't want this sort of thing to ever happen again."

There is a thoughtful pause, then the disembodied voice suggests, "I could show you video clips of some interactions where there were known misunderstandings. Perhaps seeing them from an observer's point of view will help put things in perspective."

Steve almost cries in relief. "Yes," he agrees fervently. "That would help tremendously."

Before he could suggest a starting point, JARVIS responds, "If you will direct your attention to the screen before you, Captain."

A picture appears. Stark, obviously excited, is going over the holographic schematics of the tower as he practically vibrates in place. "JARVIS?" he asks as he enlarges one of the floorplans, "Did the heavyweight bags arrive for Captain Rogers?"

"Yes, sir, and are in the gym."

"And my targeting programs for Agent Barton?"

"Loaded and in place, Sir."

Stark sighs, shrinking the one screen and enlarging another. "I wish I'd had time to finish that unbreakable bag for Rogers and write some personalized programs for Barton. Damn Fury and his unreasonable deadlines! This place isn't going to be half as ready as I'd like. If only he'd given me a full week…"

"I am certain they will find it adequate, sir," comes the fond reply.

Stark just hmmms in response, clearly dissatisfied. "Are the kitchens at least stocked? Especially Rogers'; with his metabolism, he's going to need all the calories he can get."

"As requested, sir, along with the nonperishable items for Masters Thor and Banner."

"Pop Tarts for Thor, don't forget. He especially likes Pop Tarts."

"Fully stocked, sir."

Stark looks up finally, flashing the ceiling a smile. It's the first full-on image of his face, and Steve is struck by how tired the man looks. "Can you pause it, please?" he asks hesitantly.

There's no response, but the playback halts. "Thank you," he says politely. If nothing else, he can still be polite.

Rogers studies the man on the screen before him. Lines of exhaustion furrow his face, and the rings beneath his eyes are raccoon-like in their contrast to the translucence of his skin. There's a splash of motor grease on one cheek, and his brow is creased as if fighting off a headache.

Steve can't help himself as he blurts, "My God, how long has it been since he slept?"

JARVIS replies automatically, "As of this footage, Sir had gotten less than six hours of sleep in four days, mostly naps on the couch or at the desk. Director Fury had given him a near-impossible deadline for your move-in date, and he had been with the Avengers earlier participating in the mandated clean-up."

Rogers gulps audibly, and mumbles, "Resume playback." The rest of their initial arrival and tour of the Tower plays out. Watching from the security camera viewpoint, and with the aid of twenty-twenty hindsight, the two things that make the greatest impression are the billionaire's obvious excitement and pride at welcoming 'his team' to their new home, and the SHIELD group's palpable discomfort and defensiveness at the same event. Stark is evidently not used to this type of situation, and awkwardly tries to make small talk. He is invariably rebuffed in increasingly rude fashion, the trio taking offense at every imagined slight. Mr. Stark is frankly bewildered by the reception, and, when they outright reject his tentative invitation for lunch to go off on their own without reciprocating, looks for a moment like he's going to cry from their flagrant snub. Instead, he shrugs tired, sagging shoulders and returns to his lab, evidently accepting that this rudeness was his due.

Steve bites his lower lip, shame flaming his face. "What have I done?," he murmurs disconsolately. His mother raised him to be polite if nothing else, and he was far from anything resembling politeness in the scenes he just witnessed. 'Good manners cost nothing and achieve much.' His mother would have put him over her knee if she'd ever seen him treat someone like he treated Stark that day.

Unaware of Roger's internal debate, JARVIS moves to the next event, and a new image flares to life. Apparently there is a planned agenda for tonight's films.

This time, Natasha and Clint are huddled together at the kitchen counter, deep in discussion. The far door opens and Stark bounces in nervously, but obviously excited about the arrows he has clutched in his left hand. The SHIELD agents are openly hostile, then suspicious, as Stark tries valiantly to simply give Clint the arrows. Now that Steve knows there was no underlying agenda other than "some people just like to give things", he can see why Stark is so obviously baffled by the reactions he's receiving from the pair. It's not really a surprise when the man finally snarls in frustration, "Have you never been given a present before Barton? Christmas at your house must have been downright depressing."

The situation rapidly deteriorates, ending with Clint leaving in a huff gripping the arrows and Natasha sidling up unnoticed behind Stark so closely that he scrambles backwards away from her when he turns. "If you ever make another crack about Clint's family, they will never even think to look for your body. Understand?" Stark nods slowly at the threat, confusion and acceptance written all over his face. Rather than apologize and ask what he did wrong, he scurries out of the room. Now Steve knows that he left to access the confidential SHIELD personnel files to uncover any other conversational bear traps to steer clear of, if for no other reason than avoiding Natasha's wrath. 'Nothing says 'thank you' like a death threat,' Steve groans mentally, dropping his face to his hand in despair.

He raises his head again when the screen flickers to a new scene. 'This is Stark's lab!,' he realizes with a jolt, and leans in for a better look. He's never actually taken the time to visit, so he's never seen the inside. The engineer is standing next to a worktable, briefly inspecting a battered gauntlet before setting it down. The entire Iron Man suit is laid out on the otherwise clean surface, ready for a more thorough inspection. Stark eyes it unhappily, half-heartedly picking up a stanchion before returning it to its original position. He stares blankly into space for a moment before sucking in his lower lip and chewing on it contemplatively. "You know," he begins aloud, apparently talking to himself again, "There's just something unsatisfying about Assembling and nothing blowing up. I know Barton said he wasn't interested in any more Mario Kart and was going to bed, but maybe one of the others is around and wants to watch 'Die Hard'?" He addresses the AI then. "Hey, JARVIS, are either Rogers or Romanov in the communal area?"

"Yes, both are currently present in the main room."

Stark flashes the ceiling a blinding smile. "Sweet! I'd be willing to watch 'Beaches' at this point if I had to; I just want a little company." He hastily looks apologetic and stammers, "Not that you're not company, J, just…"

"No offense taken, Sir." Steve has to wonder again about a computer that might take offense at a simple statement like that. Was this common in the future? Should he be more polite to the microwave?

The camera input switches to the corridor outside the common room as Stark strides excitedly up, bounce in his step, grinning wider as he hears laughter coming from the main room. He halts suddenly at the door, hand catching on the frame as he sees all three of them spread out in front of the television, eating pizza and playing games. His smile fades away, replaced by such a look of hurt and sheer longing that Steve's heart aches to see it. For a moment, the billionaire looks like nothing more than a lost little boy whom the other children ignore as he wistfully watches them play. Then the engineer shakes himself, an expression of resignation and acceptance replacing the hurt, and he backs slowly and silently away from the entrance.

Once more Stark enters his lab. The earlier excited bounce is now a slower shuffle, shoulders slumped, as he approaches his armor. "You could have just told me they didn't want me up there, J," he comments expressionlessly.

"I was unaware…" begins the computer, but is interrupted by Stark waving a hand in dismissal.

"Yes, I know. But if they hadn't meant to exclude me, they would have called. I _told_ Barton that I wanted to play, too, after we finished cleaning up that robbery, and I'd treat to pizza. He said he was too tired. Either he was lying at the site, and just pretended because he didn't want me there, or he changed his mind after he got back, but didn't let me know because he didn't want me there. The others knew I was up, since we'd just gotten back, but couldn't be bothered to let me know that the activities were resuming. In my book, that means I got de-invited to my own party. How pathetic is that?" He gives a snort of disgust, then turns to his armor, snatching up a voltmeter. "Well, the only thing more pathetic is whining about it. This is hardly anything new. Why don't you and I get some work done?" He sits in front of the Iron Man suit and picks up a gauntlet.

Steve flushes again with humiliation. He remembers as a child desperately wanting to be included in the neighborhood stickball games, or kick-the-can, or just hanging out playing mumblety-peg beside the porch, but being excluded due to his health, even when that wasn't an issue. Clint had so vehemently not wanted Stark there that Rogers had given in and not contacted the man. That behavior was boorish in the extreme, especially after they refused to attend so many other invitations which now were apparently just Stark repeatedly trying to become friends. The three of them, secure in their camaraderie, excluded the billionaire completely. He is reminded again of the bullies of his youth, and stifles tears. He really has become just as bad them, as the people he used to fight against.

JARVIS says nothing, but the video changes once more. This time, a disheveled, exhausted Stark is seen exiting the elevator on Natasha's floor, box clutched tightly to his chest. He tentatively rings the bell to her suite, and Steve hears JARVIS volunteer, "Agent Romanov left to go to SHIELD medical and say goodbye to Agent Coulson before her mission tomorrow." Stark visibly slumps, disappointed. He starts mumbling to himself then, and Steve suddenly realizes that much of what comes out of Stark's mouth is an internal monologue that he's unaware of speaking aloud, _because he's completely alone so much of the time that it doesn't occur to him_. All he wants is to be part of a team, to have a group of people that he trusts at his back, and, maybe, even be able to call them 'friend'.

"I hope he's doing OK. They still won't let me visit." Stark frowns and stares at the closed door, clutching the box to his chest even tighter. "I'd like to be able to go over all this with her; there's some pretty dangerous stuff in this box. Then I can be sure she understands that this isn't just me trying to buy my way onto the team, like they think." His voice cracks a little, and Steve discovers that his own eyes are wet. "I just… I'm tired of the nightmares drenched in her blood. I want her to be as safe as I can make her when I'm not there to fly her bleeding body out of trouble." His words start speeding up as his thoughts race. "But I have that Gala to go to, and I'm the keynote speaker, and if I'm late Pepper will have my head, and I need to prove to Fury that I can be dependable, that I'm not a loose cannon, but I want her to have it, it's more important that she be safe than that I get to brag over all the cool spy swag I've made, maybe JARVIS can explain it to her?"

Steve blinks at the sheer speed of the internal debate, but sympathizes with the dilemma. He's had enough dreams of Bucky falling to understand wanting to protect one's teammates, no matter how they've treated you.

"JARVIS? When does Natasha leave?" he finally asks the AI, intentionally speaking the words aloud this time.

"I do not have that information sir. However, her conversation with Agent Barton in the communal kitchen this morning indicates that it is sometime this evening, and that she will be returning only briefly from her visit with Agent Coulson."

"You can explain all of this if I'm not here, right J?"

"Indeed sir. I have worked on this nearly as much as you."

"I'll put you down as co-designer on the patent form." Steve startles. Patents? From the earlier conversation with Rhodes he understood that Stark made all this equipment, but he now realizes that the genius _invented_ as well as built these items, things to keep Natasha safe.

He watches as Stark digs in his pocket and pulls out a stub of a pencil that he uses to write on the box, then carefully props it up against the door, returns to the elevator, and is gone.

The picture fades, only to resume again in the hallway in front of Stark's own door. Steve and Clint mill about agitatedly, undoubtedly waiting for him. Stark, exiting the elevator in a tuxedo, grins when he sees them, apparently assuming that they have heard about the wonderful body armor and other gadgetry from Natasha, and are there to ask for some for themselves. "I take commissions," he chortles, hands casually tucked into his pockets and as relaxed and happy as Steve has ever seen him. He winces as he recalls not listening to Stark's words, furious at the presumed seduction attempt of Clint's girl. His eyes widen as he watches the archer punch the cheerful man so hard in the jaw that he staggers back, stumbles in his surprise, and goes sprawling. "JARVIS, deep medical scan." Stark barks, clambering to his feet and bringing his arms up defensively.

Rogers groans. Now it makes sense. At the time, thinking that Stark was trying to force himself sexually on Natasha, he hadn't understood why the man was so confused at their reactions. But now, knowing that all the inventor had done was create an entire outfit designed to keep the Widow _safe_; to protect someone who, Steve suddenly remembers, doesn't even consider him a teammate, much less a friend. and had told him so in no uncertain terms…

Again, Steve wants to crawl under a rock and hide. Instead, he forces himself to watch the entire scene play out, unable to look away from the horror unfolding before him, a nightmare of his own making. It's like watching a train wreck, knowing what's about to happen, but being unable to stop it. He hears himself say, "If anyone deserves a beating it's you Stark." The inventor tries futilely to get a word in edgewise, attempts to explain, but is cut off time and again by either Barton or Rogers. The hurtful words flung at the unappreciated engineer fly through the air like daggers: "You disgust me Stark!"; "Your file says that you're self destructive"; "Guess that makes you the whore Stark"; "Is that why daddy didn't love you? Because he didn't want little boys?".

Steve remembers that last jibe. Clint had hissed it out, knowing it would strike home; for all he was angry at Stark reading his own confidential file, it was obvious from the insults he tossed at the billionaire that he had _memorized_ Stark's. Steve just remembers being upset at the implied insult to Howard, but now seeing the suddenly-devastated expression on the inventor's face, he recognizes that he should have been paying more attention. That jab truly hurt Stark, whose only crime was in caring so much for the safety of a… colleague (not teammate, they'd made that clear, and oh, how he wished he could take that decision back). The argument rapidly escalates, and next thing Steve knows, Clint jumps Stark and strikes him so hard that he bounces his head off the doorjamb and collapses, stunned, to the floor. Steve sees himself standing there motionless in some infuriated fugue state, seemingly blanking out until after Stark hauls himself unsteadily to his feet, standing there swaying, blood dripping into his eye from the laceration on his forehead. The inventor's hands come up to a sloppy defensive stance just as JARVIS interrupts, stopping the fight.

"Stark could have been _killed_," Steve gasps as realization hits him like a bucket of ice water. During the event he was more concerned about Clint's hurt feelings than Stark's injuries, but the gash on the genius' forehead visible on the monitor is far from the superficial scratch his own cloudy memory recalls. "JARVIS, _thank_ you for stopping this… this travesty," he declares with true gratitude, looking at the ceiling as the video clip plays on. He's aghast at his own inaction; he'd allowed a civilian be beaten by an angry, trained assassin a good fifteen years his junior. Even if Stark had actually been guilty of all they'd accused him of, there was no excuse for this brutality. How had he allowed this ignominy to occur? How had he _condoned_ it?

His eyes flash back to screen as he hears his own voice admonish Clint as he prevents a third physical assault.

"He's not worth it." The recorded words echo hollowly in Steve's otherwise silent bedroom. He watches himself drag Clint bodily away from the altercation without so much as a glance behind at the devastated genius. Now he can see something go out of Stark, deflating like a punctured balloon. The man wilts visibly, fake bravado falling away like rusty armor, and his shoulders slump in defeat as he clearly takes Steve's words to heart. "I'm not worth it," he mumbles, head bowed. "At least now I know." He pauses a moment before entering his quarters, head still bent in defeat. "Hey J?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Sorry about getting mad back there. We still OK?"

"Of course, Sir," replies the AI, and Steve is struck by the warmth in the computer's voice.

Still without looking up, Stark whispers, "Well, at least I still have you." He disappears inside his door and the screen goes dark.

Steve sits in stunned silence. How had he missed the aching need now so obvious in all Stark's words and actions? How had he missed… how had Rhodes put it?… all Stark's friendship overtures? Instead, he had ridiculed and demeaned a good man who had only wanted someone to trust beyond the friends he had literally built for himself. A kind man with cracks in his soul where he had been betrayed time and again, hiding them from casual view behind a veneer of sarcasm and snark. Steve drops his head to his chest and feels his eyes prickle, just a bit, for the broken creature that he had personally shattered beyond almost all hope of repair. It was going to take a long time, and a great deal of effort, to rectify the hurt he's caused. If it can be fixed at all.


	8. A Matter of Trust

A Matter of Trust (A "Cuts and Bruises" missing scene)

By kerravon

Tony Stark was not a trusting man. Bruce knew that from the very beginning, when the genius spent his first few distracting minutes of diatribe on the helicarrier bridge surreptitiously planting a device to hack into the SHIELD mainframe and implant JARVIS. It only worsened after the other Avengers moved into the Tower while Bruce was still in India, emotionally abusing the man to the point of continual insecure self-censure. The memory of the security footage Bruce watched his first night back still enrages him, particularly towards Rogers. Not only was the super soldier purportedly in charge of the team and therefore responsible for keeping the others in line, but, after weeks of exchanging niceties with the billionaire over telephone and email, Bruce was painfully aware of what high esteem the genius/ billionaire/ playboy/ philanthropist subconsciously held the WWII hero, due to the indoctrination of his childhood. To not only discover that his hero had feet of clay, but that he apparently despised the inventor beyond all reason, shattered Stark's trust in ways that were damn near irreparable. By the time Bruce moved in to the Tower, Stark was second guessing every word that came out of his mouth and not trusting any niceties that emanated from the others'. Additionally, watching their awkward, stilted conversations made the Other Guy just that much harder to control.

That Stark distrusted SHIELD even more than the other Avengers was a given. Apparently he and Fury had a history that one day Bruce planned on getting the genius drunk enough to discuss. As it was, he referred to the Director as "a lying liar who lies" and "The Spy". Banner himself was wary of _any_ government organization, particularly after his innumerable experiences with the Army, so was grateful for Tony's innate paranoia when designing and building the physicist's personal lab. Tony Stark, ever the suspicious futurist, had built Bruce a panic room.

Two days after Bruce returned to New York, Tony appeared at his workshop door. "Mind if I come in, big guy?" he asked, sauntering in without waiting.

"Sure, Tony," he replied, taking off his glasses and nervously cleaning them. The man was already in, anyway. "What can I do for you?"

Tony uncharacteristically turned and closed the lab door behind himself. "Nothing," he responded with a shrug. "Just wanted to see how you were settling in."

Bruce beamed at him. "Great! Thank you so much!" He gestured around the spacious room, "This is more than I ever dreamed possible."

"So, I assume you've been over the place with a fine-toothed comb?" Tony said in jovial terms, fixing him with an incongruously intent stare.

Bruce blushed and dropped his eyes. "Yeah… I couldn't resist. It's fabulous, really."

Tony tilted his head and studied him like a particularly interesting specimen. "Any questions about anything?"

Banner stuck his lower lip out as he thought. "No," he decided, "Not really. Why?" The engineer was obviously hinting at something, but Bruce was at a loss as to what it might be.

Tony shot him a grin that didn't reach his eyes, "And here I thought you were the observant one." He tilted his head up slightly, not taking his eyes off the other scientist.

"JARVIS, full lockdown until lifted by Dr. Banner or myself. No audio or video recording, no one gets in, black out the windows, jam all frequencies for potential listening devices." Tony was suddenly all business, and Bruce stood in alarm.

"Tony, what…" he began, but was waved to silence.

The genius took a deep breath, and fixed him with an uncharacteristically solemn gaze. "Look, Bruce. I know it looks like SHIELD has your back for now, and you KNOW that I do, but sometimes… things happen." He looked uncomfortable again, as if he were considering how best to say whatever came next. Bruce waited patiently, aware that Tony was still working through his verbal filter issues. "Sometimes SI business requires my presence overseas, sometimes I might be… otherwise indisposed." Bruce seriously wanted to know what words _those_ had replaced.

Tony seemed lost in thought for a moment, then shook himself imperceptively and continued, "Anyway, I need to show you something."

He strode purposefully over to the far wall where the generic lab supplies were laid out. He walked to the second shelf from the left and knelt before the third shelf from the floor, where row upon row of beakers sat. Removing the two farthest right beakers resulted in a palm identification pad sliding out. Tony typed rapidly into the attached keyboard, placed his hand on the sensor, then shot Bruce a nervous smile. "I need you to put your right hand here, now, palm down."

"Okayyyy…." Banner looked at him questioningly, but complied. As soon as the light beam scanned his palm, the shelving unit swung inwards, revealing a long, narrow room with a cot, shelves of canned and dry foodstuffs, simple bathroom facilities, and some computer equipment. At the far end was another palm scanner, next to a closed door.

Bruce was confused. "Tony? What is all this?"

At first Stark couldn't meet his eyes, just looked around the space uncomfortably as he spoke. "It's a panic room. Just for you… or the Other Guy." He met Bruce's stare then, and his eyes were steel. "I didn't get where I am today by being trusting. The one person I did trust, for years, the man I thought of as a father and provided with all my security overrides…had me kidnapped, tortured, tried to have me killed… then when that wasn't successful, paralyzed me and personally ripped this," he tapped his arc reactor significantly, "out of my chest and left me for dead."

Bruce shuddered as the other guy roared his disapproval, forcibly suppressing him as Tony hurriedly continued, "Oh, don't worry; he's dead." As further reassurance to the Hulk that all was well, he added, "I killed him. But that's not the point. The point," and he made sure he had Banner's undivided attention again, "Is that the only person you can truly rely on is yourself." The Other Guy, mollified by the 'I killed him' statement as Tony knew he would be, growled again in agreement.

"This room does not appear on any blueprint, and has never done so. In fact, all the adjacent rooms and floors are modified on the plans just enough to account for the space. This room doesn't exist. Also, all six walls are truly Hulk proof as well as soundproof, and these," he gestured at the door they entered and the door on the far wall, "Are the only two access points, and are currently keyed to just you and me. The code I entered earlier designates you as primary user; as such you can revoke my access or add other people at your discretion. The air circulator has additional filters to keep it separate from the rest of the Tower, and there's bottled water with the food in case of possible water supply contamination. You can potentially hide in here undetected for weeks. That far door leads to a spiral stairwell that goes all the way down to a secret entrance in the stairwell on the second floor; I'll show you how to access that later."

Bruce turned slowly in a circle, taking it all in, before holding his arms out and simply asking, "Why?"

Tony snorted self-deprecatingly. "Because I don't trust people, Bruce, and you shouldn't either. If something happens to me, if SHIELD turns on you, if the Army sneaks into the Tower, or Ross goes off the rails and you're here alone," he gestured expansively around the room, "You have this. Hell, if I go batshit crazy and try to take over the world, you can even lock _me_ out. There's a landline phone and a wireless computer, so you'll have communication options. This. Is. Yours. After today, I will never enter it unless you ask me to, or unless I think you're in trouble, but even that is your choice. If you decide to lock me out, I have no override."

Bruce stared wide-eyed at the billionaire, then at the room. It was everything he'd ever needed to feel safe, but had never imagined could exist. He turned gratitude-filled eyes back to his friend, who saw his intended 'thank you' and cut it off uncomfortably. "But if you invite me back and I discover that you've painted it puce, I reserve the right to tease you about it for at least two weeks," he cracked with a dissembling grin.

"Sounds fair. Thank you." Bruce could see Tony's pleased flush even as he waved the thanks away.

-A-A-A-A-A-

Banner now sat quietly in his lab, absently playing with a pencil and staring at nothing. At least, it appeared to be nothing to the casual observer; in actuality, it was the door to his panic room. There had been several instances since he first moved into the Tower where just the existence of the room had kept him from fleeing for distant regions unknown. That, and his guilt regarding what had happened to Tony, of course.

However, this was the second time he'd been asked to 'suit up' since his return, and the second time he'd been unable to do so due to the Other Guy's fury with Rogers. Apparently his green alter ego was both fond and overly protective of Tony, both in his suit and out. Still, Banner had to wonder how long it was going to take SHIELD to become disgusted with his lack of compliance and decide that there were better uses to which to put the Hulk; more…experimental ones. Rationally, he knew he was being ridiculous. Fury had just grunted when Rogers had declined the training exercise on Dr. Banner's behalf, no indication of impatience or even irritation, just a request to let him know when the Hulk might be available. The presence of the panic room, combined with the fact that SHIELD had truly let him disappear for weeks after the Battle of New York, reassured him tremendously. Still, there would be no concentrating on delicate experiments until everyone was back in the Tower, safe and sound.

His com unit chimed, loud in the otherwise silent workshop, and Natasha's voice immediately rang through the air. "Doctor Banner, are you there?"

His heart fluttered at her uncharacteristically strained tone. He took a deep, calming breath, then responded, "Yes, I'm here." He wasted no time on asking what was wrong; if she hadn't been planning on telling him, she wouldn't have called.

"Iron Man has fallen in need of his replacement arc reactor. It will save time if you can bring it to us." Bruce's own heart caught in his throat, and he longed to ask, 'what happened', but knew that it wasn't important right now.

"Where is it?" he demanded, already heading towards the door of his lab.

"His workshop. You have to ask JARVIS where the safe is. The code to override the biometrics is 55678R, the combination is 070418."

"Seriously?" he spluttered, taking the stairs two at a time.

"Doctor…?" Natasha asked, not understanding the question.

"Never mind. Not important. I'll be there in a few minutes. Banner out." If Agent Romanov hadn't realized that the _combination to the_ _safe that held Tony's heart_ was Cap's date of birth, then far be it from him to enlighten her.

"JARVIS, Tony needs his replacement arc reactor," Bruce stated as he entered the engineer's workshop. "Can you tell me where his safe is?"

"Beside the control panel for DUM-E's charging station. Press the button in the lower left panel and the keypad will appear."

Bruce skidded to a stop in front of the console, noting with concern the numerous buttons in the left lower panel. "JARVIS? Which…," he began, then blinked in surprise. If the situation weren't so dire, he'd have rolled his eyes; as it was, he muttered, "You have got to be kidding me…," as he pushed the button carefully painted to resemble Cap's shield. A panel did indeed slide out at that, so he rapidly typed in the code and combination, carefully snatched up the arc reactor nestled in the safe, and took off running for the garage, and his motorbike.

As he drove furiously towards the training site, he had to work much harder to keep 'The Other Guy' suppressed, as he now had time to speculate on what had happened. Still, Tony was depending on him to bring the spare arc reactor, and he couldn't do that if he lost control. No, the genius had trusted him with his replacement 'heart' and Bruce would _not_ let his friend down. After all, Tony Stark was not a trusting man.

END


	9. Friendly Fire

Friendly Fire (A "Cuts and Bruises" AU missing scene)

By kerravon

Inspiration: I just wanted to know how Chapter 8 of C&B and the 'Official Missing Scene #1' would look from a slightly different perspective.

It was another training exercise, the second one that Stark had participated in as an official member of the Avengers, so of course it all went to hell. In retrospect, Clint should have known better; my God, the genius' entire 'super hero' status hinged on a mechanical suit, he should have realized that there were electronics involved in its functioning. Not to mention the functioning of the device keeping Stark alive. No, don't mention that. After all, in all the training briefings and exercises up to that point, no one had.

-A-A-A-A-A-

"Captain, Iron Man, Hawkeye. Be aware that there is a bomb on the second floor of the occupied building." Natasha's voice hissed over the comm. As part of the 'hostage rescue' scenario, she had just taken out a 'sniper' on the roof of the building opposite Clint's own. Cap and Iron Man were planning on entering the basement of the structure in question and take out the 'terrorists' from within, while Hawkeye and Widow dealt with the external threats. Hulk had still been unable to control himself around Steve, so had been left out of this exercise, and didn't Clint feel guilty about that? Still, no time to brood.

"Location?" he queried sharply, eyeing the second floor. Nothing to be seen from his vantage point.

"Southwest corner, immediately below the west-facing window. No one in the room from this angle. Timer clearly visible in countdown mode." So, the window directly facing him. The bomb would be right through the wall he was staring at, below the window ledge.

Well, that was just _swell_. Since SHIELD owned this building, as well as the four blocks in every direction, it was entirely possible that Fury had decided to add a little realism and plant a live bomb. Even probable, given that both the hostages and the terrorists were plastic manikins. He narrowed his eyes; he could lob that new EMP arrow into the structure just above the explosives. If the R&D department was right, it would disrupt and neutralize the timer, after which they'd just have the terrorists to deal with.

"Window's open," he observed aloud over the comm, "And I have just the thing to scramble the electronic signal to that bomb."

"Wait!…" came the alarmed cry from Stark over his headset, but Hawkeye had converted thought to action in one smooth movement, and the experimental arrow was winging its way into the building.

The use of that arrow was likely one of the undisclosed objectives of this exercise. SHIELD R&D had developed it recently and had spent over an hour extolling its merits at the in-service he and Cap had attended a week before the blow out with Stark, while Widow was still away on her mission. Upon impact the head emitted a low level EMP field, disrupting any electronics within twenty yards, the theory being that it would interrupt the connections between a timer and the actual trigger, making the bomb inert. It had worked well enough in the lab but had yet to be field tested. It was a reasonable assumption that this would be its first planned test, to work any bugs out before they needed it against a real enemy.

Good thing, too. The shaft flew true, entering the window with a whisper and impacting a bare two feet from the location Widow had verbally tagged. Hawkeye heard the small 'oomph' as the arrowhead detonated, followed by silence. He began to smile, lowering his bow and waiting for Natasha to confirm that the timer was defunct, when all the windowpanes blew outwards in a fiery rain of glass. A second explosion rapidly followed the first, and Clint watched in horror as the nearest wall began crumbling, buckling inwards on itself. The southern wall, the one nearest Tash, began caving as well, and the rest of the building followed, faster and faster, until, with a final 'whoomph', it collapsed into a pile of smoking rubble.

"Congratulations," came the wry voice of the SHIELD agent monitoring the exercise, "You killed all the terrorists. Of course, you killed all the hostages as well."

"Cap, do you copy?" Widow's voice was preternaturally calm. Clint's heart jumped to his throat at the subtext beneath her stony tone; something was very, very wrong. He began scrambling frantically for the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time.

"What is it?" Clint tried to keep his voice as level as hers, even as he picked up speed.

She ignored him, but increased her urgency, "Cap! Iron Man! Do you copy?!" She was _afraid_ for them. Clint didn't know why, but she was sincerely worried.

He keyed his mike again. "Anyone got an eye on Cap or Iron Man?" he added into the comm. _'Please let them be safe, please let them be safe'_, repeated in his head like a prayer, even though he didn't know why.

"They were both last seen infiltrating the building's basement from the north," came a field report from one of the junior agents.

Clint's horrified, "What?" was drowned by the eruption of chatter from the rest of the SHIELD people assigned to the exercise. By the time he reached street level, it was confirmed that the two Avengers had entered the basement just seconds before the blast, so probably hadn't made it up any higher in the building. Still, Clint had been more focused on the mission than on the location of his teammates, and had just dropped two-thirds of a building on them. Now, no one could raise them on comm. Hawkeye's heart thudded wildly. In his single-minded concentration, he'd forgotten that there were other people in the equation besides the hostages, the terrorists, and Nat.

"They might be fine; if they were in the building, their comms are fried," reported one of the junior Agents helpfully. "The EMP, while localized, would still have affected everything electronic, including the radios."

Clint skidded to a stop as other implications hit him. Everything electronic? But Stark's suit…

"Natasha?" suddenly came Cap's clipped voice. Clint let out a breath he wasn't aware of holding. At least he hadn't killed Steve. Maybe they just lost their radios. He continued to jog around to the back basement door, where his teammates had entered the edifice. This side of the structure was still partially standing, but looked pretty precarious. They needed to get their men out of there ASAP.

"Captain?" responded Widow, who allowed herself a imperceptible sigh of relief. "I've got Steve on the line. He's fine," she announced on the general channel. "What's your location, Captain? Is Iron Man with you?"

Steve sounded far from calm as he snapped, "We're in the building that fell down. I've got…I'm with Tony. He's having trouble with the Arc reactor. You need to get Bruce to bring us a spare." His voice actually cracked with what sounded like suppressed tears. "_Now_. He's…he needs it now."

Clint couldn't hold back a choked exclamation as he realized what he should have already known; Stark's Arc reactor…had electronics, too. He barely noticed Natasha's Russian expletives and admonishment to keep quiet. He had reached the back door, only to be confronted with what looked like rubble from half the north wall piled between him and his team. He started pulling at the jagged concrete, trying to tear his way into the blocked entrance.

"Natasha, call Bruce. Tell him that the spare reactor is in a safe in Tony's workshop." Clint noted absently that the Captain had switched to the private Avengers channel. He grasped the top of a boulder the size of Fury's desk and heaved, muscles straining, until it rolled free with a groan. "JARVIS will have to tell him the precise location, but he's to use code 55678R to override the biometrics, and the safe combination is 070418."

"Workshop, JARVIS, 55678R, 070418. Got it." Natasha was now superhumanly calm. Clint wanted to scream. Instead, he heaved at another boulder.

"We're pretty barricaded in by the building collapse. I'm pulling debris free as fast as I can, but…just tell him to hurry, okay?"

"Got it." Widow signed off to call Banner as Clint yanked another desk-sized boulder loose, jumping clear as it shifted away.

All that Hawkeye could hear for the next few minutes were his own gasping breaths from the exertion of moving the hundreds of pounds of broken building that lay before him. He concentrated determinedly on the next rock, studiously ignoring the fact that no one had heard from Stark since before the blast, when he'd tried to get Clint to delay deploying the arrow. After a seeming eternity, Tash was beside him, pulling off smaller but no less significant pieces and hurling them violently aside. "Bruce is on the way," she announced to Cap over the comm, shooting Clint a significant look. "He'll be here in six minutes."

Hawkeye suddenly saw a fist-sized hole appear at the level of his chest, a flash of a red glove disappearing from view. "I see you, Steve," he announced with relief, hauling the stone just beneath that towards himself. Natasha was there in an instant, scrabbling at the sides and enlarging the defect by leaps and bounds. A few minutes of frantic work, and they finally had a hole large enough for Stark without the armor. Steve would still be a tight squeeze.

"I think we can get through that," Steve huffed breathlessly. "Let me go get Tony."

Stark couldn't move under his own power? Clint only had a moment to exchange an alarmed glance with Natasha before Steve was back, voice strained in the darkness beyond the gap in the wall. "His reactor's failed completely. I don't think he's breathing."

Stark's unconscious, dark-haired visage came into view, the back of his skull cradled in one of Steve's beefy hands. The skin beneath the soot and grime from the demolition was pale to the point of translucence, with an alarming gray tinge surrounding unmoving lips just beginning to turn blue. Clint was there in an instant slipping his hands beneath too-still shoulders so that he could support the genius' head and neck between his muscular forearms as he pulled the engineer gently out of Cap's grip. Natasha slipped to the side to help carry the weight of Stark's unarmored body as Clint hauled him completely free, dragging him a few yards further away to assure clearance in case the building decided to settle any further when the internal supports finally gave way. They had barely gotten Stark flat on his back before Cap was kneeling at the unmoving man's side, reaching to touch the too-cold skin over his carotid, desperately searching for a pulse that wasn't there. He collapsed back on his heels after a moment, failing to find even a flutter. The soldier's eyes, firmly fixed on the billionaire's motionless face as if he could imbue life by force of will alone, appeared so lost that Clint's heart caught in his throat.

"CPR," Clint rasped, finding it hard to force the words through his suddenly-dry throat. "Can we…will that hurt the..?"

Just then they heard the irregular unmuffled rumble of Banner's ancient motorcycle race up. Dropping it unceremoniously to the rough ground, he growled in a barely-controlled voice, "What did you _do _to him?", as he rushed over, replacement reactor clutched tightly in his hand. The whites of his eyes were flashing green, the rage swimming barely-contained below the surface.

Cap knew he had to keep Banner calm; Tony needed this man right now. As just his presence threatened a Hulk episode, Steve backed rapidly away, keeping his voice steady and even as he replied, "Training accident. Help him, Doctor."

The reminder of medical need focused Bruce's attention on the supine, unnaturally still man on the ground. Steve grabbed Clint by the elbow and pulled him backwards as well, moving completely out of Bruce's line of sight. Natasha, to her credit, didn't shake after she was left alone with the volatile physicist, but knelt beside him and asked, "How can I help?"

The scientist didn't look up as he twisted the arc reactor in Tony's chest with assurance, freeing it and pulling it out. He'd clearly had prior instruction. With trembling hands he wordlessly disconnected the wires and attached them to the new, glowing replacement still clutched in his hand. He fixed Natasha with an intense stare. "Now, with your small hands, you need to settle this back into the cavity in his chest, keeping the wires in position. Then, carefully, turn it a quarter turn clockwise until it clicks in place. It should reboot then."

Widow solemnly nodded, taking the device with extraordinary delicacy and following Bruce's instructions perfectly. A moment of darkness, then the blue light burned as Tony awakened with a gasp. "Wha' hap'n?!" he demanded blearily. "Why 'r you… get 'way frm it!" He swatted at Nat's hands with the strength of a kitten, but with all the energy that panic could supply. She held up her hands to demonstrate, 'no harm', and backed a safe distance away, ready to return if needed.

"Shhh, shhhh," soothed Bruce, settling the genius back down. "It's all right. Your reactor failed; I brought your replacement."

Dark, terrified eyes fixed uncomprehendingly on Bruce's as the billionaire's hands clasped the other's forearms with a surprisingly tight grip. "Obie?," he asked in terror.

Banner, recalling the story Tony had told him concerning second chances, shook his head vigorously in denial. "Dead, Tony, remember? That was before, when you still lived in Malibu. No one's going to take it from you ever again, not if I can help it." He intentionally allowed a small flash of green to appear in his eyes and his mouth twisted viciously.

Rather than recoiling, Stark seemed reassured, but still stared intently into the other man's face for a moment longer. "Promise?," he finally asked in a surprisingly timid voice.

"I promise," Bruce agreed, and meant every word.

The SHIELD evac team arrived then, chopper landing about ten yards away. Two EMT's hopped out with a gurney, bustling over with their equipment in tow. Banner stayed next to Tony, hand clasped firmly, as they made their assessment. It was decided to transport him to the larger medical facility at the New York headquarters, rather than the helicarrier, given the unknown complications that could arise with the unique technology in Stark's chest, coupled with the engineer's prior interaction with the experimental EMP field. When they were finally ready to transport, Bruce didn't hesitate a moment before climbing into the helicopter next to his injured friend. Hulk or not, he was going to be there for Tony any time the amazing self-destructive genius needed him. Some things, like friendship, took precedence over all his fears of 'what if'. Maybe Tony was right. Rather than cower from possibilities, maybe it was time to… strut a little. _'After all_,' he thought vindictively, shooting Steve and Clint a quick glare as the chopper lifted off, _'The Hulk could be considered just another form of 'friendly fire', couldn't he?_'

The end


	10. Unfriendly Fire

Unfriendly Fire

(A Cuts and Bruises AU)

By kerravon

Inspiration: Please see the note at the end of this AU, as the prompt is pretty spoilery.

"What's this?" Tony Stark muttered to himself as he wandered into the common area and spied a neat sheaf of papers sitting on the table. It was mid-morning two days after he'd gotten home from the hospital and he should have been hard at work in his lab, but found his thoughts so jangled that he couldn't concentrate, so he'd come up in search of fresh coffee. Eyeing the stack warily, he walked over and reached to pick them up, halting an inch from the cover sheet. It was apparently the briefing packet for an Avengers meeting, but dated from before he'd been officially made a member. He stopped guiltily; it was probably something he wasn't supposed to see, even if he was an Avenger _now_. He didn't want people thinking that he was invading their privacy again. He sighed as he straightened, still staring at the untouched pile, and rubbed his arc reactor nervously. He knew it was silly, but it still ached, despite all the diagnostics he'd run once he'd gotten back to the Tower. Must be phantom pain from the EMP.

Coffee. Right. That's what he needed after another restless night. He was sleeping even less than usual, and that had never been much. Every time he nodded off he'd jerk awake less than an hour later, gasping for breath and clutching his chest protectively as he fended off distorted nightmare versions of Barton and Rogers who were trying to rip his heart out (now that they knew how). He shook himself as an involuntary shiver raced up his spine. He knew he was just being ridiculous. Probably. Both men had been on their best behavior since Pepper and Rhodey had jumped in to fix things, and Bruce seemed to be hovering even more protectively than ever. It was hardly their fault that forced, fake smiles from people who hated him gave him chills since they didn't know about Obie. Who'd have thought he'd miss the open animosity that was at least honest? His shoulders slumped at the thought that, while Rhodey and Pepper had shamed the rest into allowing him to be an Avenger, they still didn't really accept him as one of the team.

'Oh well, life goes on.' He pulled his shoulders back and stood straighter because Stark men never showed weakness. He'd made his bed by being an asshole, he might as well sleep in it. Or lie awake in it, as the case may be. 'Right, coffee.' With a mental shrug he started towards the kitchen for the life-giving caffeine, only to almost barrel into Rogers as he left the pantry with a muffin and a glass of milk. The blonde's eyes tentatively met his own as he ventured, "Oh, Tony? Do you have a moment?" The soldier glanced at the papers on the table. "There's something I'd like you to see, if you can spare the time."

Well, at least now the engineer knew who was leaving classified documents just lying around. "Sure, Cap. Let me grab a cup of coffee and I'll be right back." He held up his empty mug as evidence of his honest intentions, then scurried through the door into the otherwise blissfully empty kitchen.

He didn't know why he was so nervous. From the title on the cover, Rogers wanted to review something that pertained to the Avengers that he'd not been privy to before. Given what had happened with the EMP arrow, that made perfect sense. After all, as team leader Cap could hardly afford to be losing his aerial support in the middle of a battle, so he needed to know Iron Man's weaknesses. Of course, after the debacle last week, Tony had improved the arc reactor shielding significantly. It would take a lot more than a small EMP to take it out again.

Gathering his steaming coffee he returned to the living room, hands warming around the ceramic cup. Steve looked up from his position on the couch and smiled in welcome, which made Tony even more jumpy than before. Just because he'd helped save his life didn't mean that the soldier liked him now. Even he wasn't that self-deluding. It was just for the good of the team. He scooted past the sofa and settled in an adjacent chair, close enough to see the papers and keep an eye on Rogers simultaneously. It seemed like Cap's smile dimmed a bit, but it was probably just his imagination.

"I got to thinking," Steve began, and Tony clamped down hard on the automatic joke that sprang to mind. There was no way Rogers would take the old line 'Did it hurt?' very well, so he remained silent and took a sip of his scalding beverage instead. He hid the wince as it burned his tongue.

"The arrow that hurt your…," Steve tapped his own chest to indicate Tony's arc reactor. "While you weren't briefed on it, and weren't officially on the team at the time," here the team leader flushed slightly, but pressed on, "R&D and Fury both knew that you regularly responded whenever there was an actual battle. If they spent an hour discussing the pros and cons of this experimental arrow, why wouldn't they caution us about possible side effects of using it in your vicinity?" He met Tony's eyes, bewilderment radiating from his own, and gestured to the papers. "At first I assumed that they had, but that I had somehow missed it or not understood the significance of what they were saying, so I pulled out my briefing packet and copy of the minutes and reviewed them. There's nothing like that here." He held out the packet to Tony. "I was wondering if you could look them over and see what I missed?"

The billionaire shrank back from the proffered papers, clenching his mug tensely with both hands. "Ummm….nothing personal, Cap, but I don't like being handed things. Could you set them down?" He jerked his head once towards the low table between them.

Steve complied with a raised eyebrow but without comment, so Tony reached over, placed his cup on the tabletop rather than the coaster three inches away, and picked them up. Flipping through, he frowned slightly and carefully considered his words. He really didn't want to offend the other man.

"Why paper? SHIELD emails everything it wants me to review."

Cap clenched his hands together, embarrassed. "Me, too. I…one of the first things I bought after we moved into the Tower was a printer. I just like working with paper; it's familiar, somehow."

The futurist, now absorbed in the documents, nodded absently in understanding. "I get it. It's like holding an old, leather-bound book instead of an e-reader. There's something visceral about it that makes you notice more details, or see things in a different light."

Steve was frankly surprised at the reaction; he'd expected ridicule, even though the other man was obviously screening his words oh-so-carefully around the team. But this time Tony's reply had been immediate, unrehearsed, distracted, and apparently uncensored. He actually did understand.

The inventor's frown deepened as he pulled out the printed arrow schematics and studied them intently. There were several pages, so he leaned forward and spread them over the sturdy coffee table, picking up his mug and sipping on it absently as he ran his finger from one page to the next, tracing out mechanical details and energy flow. After almost ten solid minutes of intense scrutiny, he lifted dark, wary eyes to meet still-puzzled expectant blue ones.

"There's a reason for that, Cap," he commented, tapping the diagrams meaningfully. "It's the same reason they warned Clint to get the arrow as close to the target as possible. While very effective at close range, the EMP effect of the arrowhead in this schematic rapidly disperses, and is easily and thoroughly blocked by any metal or thick stone it encounters. The only way this could have affected my arc reactor," he stabbed a finger viciously at the diagrams spread out before him, "Is if I was standing right next to it when it went off."

"But, then how …?" Rogers trailed off, confused.

Tony leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow. "The arrow on this diagram is NOT the one Clint used. It can't be."

Steve felt his protective hackles rise; was Stark accusing Clint of trying to murder him? "There's no way that Barton exchanged…" he began hotly.

The engineer blinked, eyes widening in alarm as he pressed backwards into his seat. 'What have I said now?' he mourned as he mentally played back the conversation. 'He thinks I'm accusing Clint of trying to intentionally kill me,' he realized in a heartbeat, then waved open hands in front of himself in denial as he spoke in quick, pressured phrases, afraid that Captain America once again wasn't going to give him a chance to explain. "No! No, you don't understand! I'm not accusing Barton of anything. Someone ELSE pulled a fast one here, not Hawkeye."

"Did I hear my name?" Clint sauntered through the far door and wandered over curiously.

Steve blinked, then blushed in shame. He was doing it again; making assumptions before getting all the facts. That needed to stop. "Tony and I were just going over the schematics for the EMP arrow."

The archer leaned over Cap's shoulder and stared at the plans on the desk. "Really? How'd you get hold of those?" he gestured to the diagrams. "Stark hack SHIELD again?"

"No?" Cap was confused. "These were in my briefing packet. Weren't they in yours?"

Clint shrugged, then plopped onto the couch next to the super soldier. "Yeah, but they disappeared later that night. I figured they got redacted for security reasons."

Tony arched an eyebrow and leaned forward. "Interesting. Not typical SHIELD protocol. Good thing you like paper, Cap." Eyeing Barton, he asked almost casually, "I don't suppose they gave you more than one of those arrowheads?"

Clint shrugged, stealing a pickle off Steve's plate. "Three, actually. They thought it might take multiple shots to neutralize a target."

The engineer stood abruptly, exhaustion forgotten in single-minded focus, and clapped his hands together, rubbing them briskly in anticipation of a new problem. "Great! Could you grab the two you have left and meet me in my workshop?" He headed for the stairs, already mumbling equations of force and distance to himself.

The archer and the super soldier exchanged a long-suffering look, then Clint rose to go to the armory. "Hey Cap, wanna tag along? This should be interesting."

Steve nodded. "Yes. Something nefarious is going on."

Clint's eyes widened in mock disbelief. "Nefarious? Really? Who uses words like that, anyway?"

"I do, when Stark tells me that the arrow on that diagram shouldn't have affected him from two floors up in a steel and concrete building." Steve's mouth set to a grim line.

Clint came to such a sudden halt that Cap almost plowed into him. He whirled on the larger man and hissed, "What?!"

Steve quirked the corner of his mouth sympathetically. "Yeah. So, not your fault. I couldn't remember being warned not to use them near Iron Man, so I checked my files. I don't like missing things, especially not when someone can get hurt. Turns out, we _weren't_ warned, because the EMP field in the arrows they discussed is too weak and easily blocked by metal and concrete."

"Right," Barton's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "They said that I practically had to drop the arrowhead right next to the bomb for it to work."

"Exactly. Tony thinks they might have given you… something else."

Now Clint was as grim as Steve. "Let's get them to Stark, then."

-A-A-A-A-A-

"All right, JARVIS, we're as ready as we'll ever be. Go ahead and scan, please." Upon entering the workshop with the two remaining arrowheads, Steve and Clint found Tony pacing along the far side of the lab in front of two thick, clear rectangles set in the wall. They were apparently isolation boxes; impervious to radio waves, electronic signals, fire, water, microbes, explosions, and, most importantly, EMP. Each arrowhead was placed in a separate box, and JARVIS instructed to record as much information as possible, particularly in the event an explosion was accidentally triggered by the scanning. Steve was a little disturbed that Tony almost expected something to go wrong with passive examination of the weaponry; after all, only direct impact was _supposed_ to set off the EMP blast. Of course, the one at the training exercise hadn't worked anywhere near specs, either. Cap was therefore relieved to note that, as a final safety measure, the inventor had wrapped himself (particularly his chest and arc reactor) in a lead-lined X-ray shielded apron.

To Steve's infinite relief, nothing unexpected occurred in the next few minutes. The three men were anxiously silent until JARVIS announced primly, "Scan complete."

"Huh," grunted Tony, sounding slightly disappointed. He strode over to his central computing area and demanded, "All right, put it up, along with a side-by-side of those plans I fed you earlier." Two glowing, blue, holographic, three dimensional diagrams appeared in the air before him, and he studied them intently for a moment before sharpening his gaze and stabbing a finger at the new scan. "There! JARVIS, magnify times ten." The region in question expanded, and the inventor squinted in concentration. "Twenty." The area enlarged again.

Stark glared at the ceiling and snarled, "Why am I not seeing any details? At this magnification I ought to be able to visualize _something_ useful."

"There is an unknown shielding surrounding the area in question."

Tony blinked in surprise. "Really?"

Steve couldn't stand it any more. "What's going on?" he began to demand, only remembering to tone it down to a question at the last minute.

"This." If the billionaire noticed the abrupt tone, he didn't comment on it as he pointed to first one image, then the other. "This portion here was not on the plans you received in your briefing packet. And while JARVIS managed to get detailed interior scans of the actual weapon without causing an explosion, the new area appears to be intentionally shielded; we can't get a read on it externally, and it's rigged to blow if we try to dismantle it physically."

"Can't we just ask R&D what they changed?" Barton suggests helpfully. "Maybe it was a last-minute addition."

"Then why try and hide it from external evaluation? Why not inform _you_ of modifications made to equipment that _only Hawkeye can use_?" Stark was grim, and gave a moment to the others for the implications to set in.

"Then what do we do?" Steve finally asked, truly at a loss.

Tony stared solemnly at Clint. "I have a theory, but I hope I'm wrong. With your permission, I'd like to detonate them while JARVIS records the explosions on all wavelengths."

The archer shot Cap a questioning look, then shrugged. "Sure, if you think it will help." It was his turn to look uncharacteristically serious. "And if you're certain it won't hurt your nightlight?" He tapped the center of his own chest meaningfully.

"I'm sure. Even without this lead shielding I'm wearing, I've already modified the reactor extensively to prevent a repeat performance."

The engineer went back to the first window. "All right, JARVIS, full spectrum analysis, particularly of the electromagnetic pulse, as we detonate the arrowhead in containment cell one."

A small weight dropped from the top of the box directly onto the tip of the experimental weapon, causing a small, controlled explosion. The genius hurried to his computers once again with just the barked command, "Show me."

Numbers and graphs began scrolling across several floating screens as Stark's fingers flew delicately over the interfaces, pulling up and discarding data as he needed it. The other Avengers could only stare awestruck at the beauty and complexity of the movements and figures. This was Tony in his element; the engineer was fully immersed in his work, mesmerized every second.

Finally satisfied, he glanced up and noticed the two men staring at him and fought down a blush. He hadn't blushed for decades, and he wasn't going to start now. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, then held his voice steady through sheer force of will. "That one went off just like your briefing packet predicted. If it had been completely unshielded and I had been standing here unprotected, nothing would have happened. That's our baseline."

Before Steve or Clint could question him, Tony picked a small device off the desk and flipped a switch. It began to radiate a small, blue glow, but otherwise did nothing. "This," the genius commented, "is where things may get interesting. This little do-dad emits an energy frequency identical to my arc reactor, but without the explosive power. I'm going to set it in the second containment field and repeat the experiment."

"Would you…could I do that, just in case it's mere presence triggers something?" suggested Cap, suddenly apprehensive, remembering the sickly flickering of the damaged arc reactor and Tony's slurred responses. He had a bad feeling about this, and really didn't want a repeat of their experience in that shattered basement.

The genius stared at him thoughtfully for a long moment, then shrugged. "Sure, why not?" he replied, holding out the now-inactive device. "Activate the signal by pressing this button," he demonstrated a small red button on the side, "just before you put it in the containment box. Place it in a corner away from the arrowhead, though; I don't want its readings to be incorporated into the EMP data."

Steve nodded, taking the small gadget and walking to the wall. Despite his fears, pressing the button did nothing but turn on a small blue light. He carefully set it in the corner of the box, secured the lid firmly, and backed away.

Tony, still in his lead apron, said, "All right, JARVIS."

An identical small weight dropped onto the second experimental weapon, resulting in a similar contained explosion. Steve thought the blast might have been a little larger than the first, but that could have been his imagination.

The data started scrolling at Stark's workstation unprompted, and Tony was quickly immersed, pulling specific parcels of data from the analysis of each blast for comparison, and minimizing the information that wasn't pertinent. Once he had the two lists compiled, he stood back, arms crossed, and studied them. After a moment he gave a long, low whistle and shook his head in disbelief.

Barton couldn't contain himself. "What?" he demanded, craning his neck for a better view. If the genius inventor had found data that proved that whole disaster wasn't his fault… well, it didn't excuse his lack of attention to the whereabouts of his teammates, but at least it was something.

Tony didn't even glance at him as he rapidly pointed out differences between the two recordings. "See, here? And here? The second blast's EMP is significantly strengthened by the presence of my arc reactor signal."

Cap narrowed his eyes contemplatively. "Could it be drawing power from the device in your chest? Sort of a feedback loop?"

Tony flashed him a brilliant smile before apparently remembering that they weren't actually friends. It faltered as he cleared his throat and carefully replied, "Good thought. Actually, that's why we used a machine that only reproduced the _signal_ my arc reactor puts out, rather than one of my actual spare arc reactors. If the two blasts today were the same, then your theory would be the most likely correct answer. We'd be safe asking R&D for another set of arrows to test against that hypothesis. As it is…" He waved a hand grandly at the two very different sets of data.

Hawkeye frowned, unafraid of admitting to his confusion. "What? I don't get it."

Stark fixed him with an intense stare. "The presence of a unique signal indicating that the _machine keeping me alive_ is nearby triggers something in the shielded portion of these arrowheads, causing the EMP wave to be over five hundred times stronger than if that signal isn't present." His voice lowered to a threat. "Someone just tried to use you to murder me, and make it look like friendly fire."

Barton's eyes became saucers as he hissed, "What?" for the second time in as many hours.

Tony turned to the team leader. "Cap, I want to ask you something, but before I do, I'd like to give you a little background information." Once Steve nodded, Tony dropped his eyes to the floor and continued, "I was a SHIELD consultant for a number of months before the team originally assembled, and helped their R&D department with a lot of different projects. I nevertheless kept tabs of the tasks I wasn't actively participating in, so that I'd have some ideas to throw out if I did get consulted." He pointed to the original arrow diagram. "Yes, R&D was working on controlled EMP arrowheads. No, they were no where near this advanced. The original development team had help, and it wasn't from me."

Rogers nodded. That all made logical sense.

The billionaire raised anxious eyes to stare into the Captain's as he tentatively concluded, "I'd like to find out who. That involves hacking into the SHIELD mainframe again."

"Why can't we just ask Fury for permission to examine the appropriate files?"

Tony opened his mouth to reply, but it was Clint that answered first. "Our target has already hacked into our briefing packets and extracted all the useful data to cover their tracks, so they apparently have some computer prowess. If we show up on the helicarrier without being summoned, the whole system will be wiped before we even reach the bridge."

"Exactly," Tony nodded in agreement. "SHIELD R&D had been working on this project for almost a year and were nowhere near this stage, much less the additional… special modifications. Whoever finalized these arrows was far from stupid, and won't be easy to catch." He grinned fiercely. "But they don't know JARVIS."

"Thank you, Sir, I appreciate your confidence," came the disembodied British voice, unprompted.

Steve wondered briefly at hearing a conversational tone from a robot, and then nodded his agreement. "All right. Let's do this."

-A-A-A-A-A-

The entire team (minus Thor, who was still visiting his 'Lady Jane') were summoned the common area. Steve felt it important that everyone know what was happening, in case it was not a Tony-specific problem. It was possible someone was after all the Avengers, and Steve wanted to be assured that everyone was safe and accounted for until they could get this straightened out. He also called Thor and promised to keep him updated if they discovered anything. Tony and Bruce set up laptops side by side on the kitchen table and, coffee in hand, got to work. The others busied themselves putting together an impromptu team luncheon while keeping both Tony and Bruce's mugs filled with their beverages of choice.

For a while the only sound was the frantic typing of the two scientists along with intermittent muttered questions to JARVIS and each other. The rest of the team wandered in and out, occasionally having low, murmured conversations and trying not to disturb the working men. It didn't take long before Tony, brows creased in confusion, leaned back in his chair with a whuffed "huh".

"What?", asked Bruce, peering over his glasses at the billionaire's screen.

The genius ignored him as he skeptically tilted his head to the ceiling and demanded, "JARVIS, is this right?"

The firm, British tone replied, "Yes, Sir. You are indeed in the SHIELD mainframe."

Bruce looked impressed while Tony snorted derisively. "Come on, how is that even possible? This should take hours! Fury always closes the backdoors after I use them, so I have to be more inventive the next time."

The computer was hesitant. "I am… uncertain, Sir. The typical firewalls are…much cruder than usually encountered."

Bruce smiled. "Hey, don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

"What's going on? Did you find something?" inquired Steve, coming up behind the two scientists.

Banner's smile slipped as Stark involuntarily hunched his shoulders, even though he tried to disguise the movement by leaning forward and tapping on his keyboard once more. "Not yet, but we're much further along than we have any right to be."

Natasha sidled up at that, with Clint right behind her. "Don't forget," she suggested softly, "Fury did say that he was having Hammer 'upgrade' the computer security."

Tony snorted again, a small smile quirking his lips, but made no reply. Rogers glanced at Bruce, but he appeared as clueless as the rest of them, so he cleared his throat and addressed the smirking spy. "Ummm… I remember him saying that he was having Mr. Hammer do it because he wanted to keep Tony out of SHIELD's systems. So… I guess we're getting this done before that happens?"

Natasha shook her head gently as the engineer actually cackled. She ignored him and replied, "No. Mr. Hammer has almost certainly installed his 'upgrades'. That is, without a doubt, the reason the security measures were so… wanting."

"Yeah, usually Justin can recognize when he's in over his head and delegates the job to one of his more competent employees. He actually knows how to hire good people. However, now that Agent Romanov mentions it, this code has 'Personally programmed by Justin Hammer' written all over it, and I would know. I guess Fury somehow got Hammer's hackles up, and this is the result." He peered at the window that just appeared and muttered, "Easier for us, anyway. Now on to Research and Development…"

"His pride was certainly involved," commented Barton, opening his mouth for the first time. "Remember? Fury said that Hammer 'loves getting a contract you weren't offered'."

Tony grunted and nodded absently, "Yeah, he doesn't like me too much. Long story." He trailed off, unwilling to waste energy elaborating as he became caught up in the data stream. Bruce was just as intently engaged, pointing at the screen from time to time and murmuring suggestions.

"There," Banner stated, pointing suddenly. "That looks promising."

"It does indeed," muttered the genius, opening the file. "Eureka! Now, let's see this puppy…" His eyes widened in shock as he read the single project memo contained in the folder, and his hands fell away from the computer keys.

Bruce's chair fell over backwards simultaneously as he jumped to his feet, hands clenched at his side, eyes tightly closed, and skin tinged a distinctive green. The other Avengers startled, automatically assuming defensive postures in case of an 'incident'. It was a near thing, but the physicist took several deep, steadying breaths, and his skin slowly regained it's paler, pink hue. No one said anything for a moment as Bruce pulled his tattered control together.

The industrialist, meanwhile, had remained perfectly still, his face slowly morphing from stunned surprise through absolute rage to quiet determination. While everyone else's attention was focused on Banner, Stark's eyes narrowed decisively and he rose gracefully from his seat and strode from the room, computer left forgotten on the table behind him. Cap raised a hand to stop him, or at least ask what he had found, but was distracted by Bruce's panting breaths and decided that dealing with Tony could wait until the danger of an incident was past. No one spoke for a few more minutes, waiting until Bruce opened his eyes and offered the group a shaky smile.

The first thing the scientist did was glance around the room in alarm. "Where's Tony?", he blurted.

"He left while you were trying to get the other guy under control," replied Steve. "We should go find him now that you're okay." He paused, then added slowly, "You _are_ okay, aren't you Doctor Banner?"

Natasha and Clint backed away from the other two men, turning their attention on the abandoned computer instead. Their faces darkened as they read what was displayed.

Bruce didn't reply, instead yelling for the household AI as he headed for the exit at a run. "JARVIS! Lock down Tony's armors! All of them!"

"I'm sorry," the computer sounded actually regretful, "but I'm afraid that you are not authorized for that command."

The pair was headed for Tony's workshop, taking the stairs two at a time, Steve hot on Bruce's heels. "What's going on?" he asked, trying to make his voice commanding rather than baffled.

"Hammer."

The two arrived at the transparent windows in front of the lab, where Stark could be seen donning the Iron Man armor. Bruce rapidly typed in his entry code, but the word 'Denied' flashed on the keypad. He pounded on the window, but Tony studiously avoided looking their way so completely that Cap was certain he knew they were there.

"JARVIS, open this door," the scientist growled, voice gruff, and deeper than it should be.

"All access is currently denied," the AI answered primly. "The workshop is under lockdown."

Bruce was definitely greener. "Tell Tony that either he opens this door for us _right now_, or there's an excellent chance that the Hulk will be coming in regardless."

There was a pregnant pause as this information was relayed to the billionaire, who glanced up at them involuntarily. After assessing his friend's level of agitation, he visibly deflated and, with a small nod, the door clicked open.

The normally reticent doctor was through it like a shot, shouting at Stark. Steve hung back, but entered the lab as well. He stood just inside the door, waiting, ready to step in if necessary, even if he still didn't know what was going on.

"…right now!" Bruce demanded. "What were you thinking? Were you going after him yourself?"

Tony assumed his most disarming mask, smiling his best paparazzi smile and spreading his gauntleted arms out in a 'who, me?' gesture that was reminiscent of too many press conferences. "Come on, Bruce. I was just going to fly around a bit, blow off some steam."

The gentler man crossed his arms and stared at the engineer skeptically. After a long moment, he drawled, "Riiiiiigghhht. And did your travel plan today include a stop over at Hammer Industries?"

The billionaire positively pouted, sticking out his lower lip, staring at the floor, and mumbling, "Maybe…" He looked up again at Bruce through coal-black lashes.

Clint and Natasha joined Steve by the door. The super soldier, eyes never leaving the drama before them, asked soto voce, "Could somebody please tell me what's happening?"

Barton actually growled. "Seems Fury bargained for more than just computer upgrades with Mr. Hammer; he also apparently contracted him to provide consultation help to the SHIELD R&D department on a limited basis." He jerked his head towards the ceiling. "When they accessed the research file on those EMP arrows, the only thing there is a memo about how that project had been outsourced to Hammer Industries' research division."

"Who is this 'Hammer' person, and why has that sent everyone off the deep end?"

Natasha's smooth tones explained. "Justin Hammer and Tony Stark have been infamous rivals since college. I don't know the early details, but while I was assigned to profile Stark for consideration in the Initiative, Hammer made a fairly good attempt at stealing the Iron Man tech and got a copy of the reactor specifications from a psychopathic Russian ex-convict named Vanko. In the process, he almost got Stark killed."

Bruce and Tony's ongoing argument was almost forgotten as Cap's brain reeled with this new information. "So, when Director Fury made his deal with Hammer, he was not only insulting Stark by contracting with his competitor, but he was pardoning the man who almost got Tony killed?"

"The prison sentence was more for industrial espionage, but yes." Natasha was grim.

"And we unknowingly tested experimental weaponry made by this man, and it almost killed Tony again. What's more, it looks like that was the planned outcome."

Clint gave a short nod. "That's right, Cap."

Rogers leaned heavily against the glass, staring sightlessly at the center of the workshop where Bruce was now helping JARVIS remove the armor from a sullen industrialist. "Why does he even _want _ to be a part of this team?" What Fury had done with the SHIELD computer system security seemed unforgivably insulting and actually fairly dangerous, yet Tony had somehow, through some unexplainable, convoluted logic, concluded that he only had himself to blame. Nevertheless, he'd shown up at the next battle when he had every right not to, and had been hung over to boot. Steve winced in remembrance. He'd been grudgingly admiring of the man showing up in pain, but had assumed he'd gotten the hangover from overindulging at a nightclub. Now he realized that Stark had every reason to get blindingly drunk; not only had the team he'd thought he belonged to rejected him outright, but Fury had added insult to injury by hiring his competitor (and near-murderer) 'Justin Hammer' to do a job Tony was already working on. He shook his head in amazement that his old friend's son never stopped surprising him. He straightened as Bruce gently grasped the engineer's elbow and guided him towards the rest of the team.

"Hey, guys," Tony said quietly, refusing to meet their eyes.

Cap crossed his arms, and projected his best 'Captain America' persona as he addressed the miserable scientist. "Let me make sure I understand this. You discovered that the experimental arrow that was meant to kill you, and nearly succeeded, was not manufactured by SHIELD, but rather your sworn enemy. This same man has contracted with SHIELD to avoid a prison sentence for nearly killing you once before and stealing your tech. After discovering these things, you decided that you'd pay the man an impromptu visit as Iron Man. Am I right? "

Stark nodded, still not raising his eyes. Bruce, however, fixed the Captain with a truly venomous glare and carefully draped his arm around his friend's shoulders in unspoken support.

"I am ashamed of you." Steve kept up the judgmental tone, and now Clint and Natasha were staring at him as well. He finally allowed the grin he'd been hiding show through as he concluded, "You need to learn to share; we all want a piece of this asshole."

Natasha nodded approvingly as Tony's head jerked up to stare at Cap. Clint piped up and added, "It can be a team-building exercise; see who can devise the best revenge plot. After all, he set _me_ up to take the blame!"

Bruce was even smiling now at the billionaire's stunned expression, and continued in the same vein. "Bonus points for not getting caught?"

Steve nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely."

Tony appeared absolutely bewildered as his eyes flitted from face to face. "But… I thought you wouldn't approve. Any of you."

"What we don't approve of," Cap explained gently, "is you going off alone and doing something that could get you hurt or killed. I know we haven't acted like it, but we're a team, and teams stick together."

"Especially if someone is trying to hurt part of our family," added Bruce with a careful smile.

There was a warm silence then, as Tony, struck speechless, looked into each face with such gratitude that it made Roger's heart ache.

After a moment, Clint decided to break the awkward silence, so he clapped his hands together and nodded to the stairs. "OK, what say we head upstairs and brainstorm our revenge? We can order pizza!"

Tony smiled like the sun emerging from behind all the clouds of winter, and nodded. "Sounds like a plan," he commented, and moved towards the door. The rest of the team followed, with Steve bringing up the rear. They were far from fine, but maybe things were looking up.

The End?

NOTE: The inspiration? The comment section where Marie_Nomad suggested 'Hammertech', and Blue went on to say, 'So, Hammer's all like 'No, of course it couldn't interfere with Ironman. Why would you think that? See, the output readings here clear show they are not strong enough to breach the minimum hypothesize shielding of the suit. And of course, there is no secret imbedded hardware to cause the EMP levels to spike if Ironman's presence is detected within the blast radius. Why would you even ask that? You didn't ask? Oh.'


End file.
